


Braid

by PaisleyWraith



Category: South Park
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-06-29 07:04:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15724389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaisleyWraith/pseuds/PaisleyWraith
Summary: Six different individuals have the same problem in general... the object of their affections doesn't realize that they are the object of their affections. In a single work three stories twist and twine around each other as the six struggle to overcome their individual issues and earn the ending they desire.Or-An author, a princess, two librarians, a supervillain, and an underpaid art teacherdon'tgo to a bar, but they probably need a drink or two.





	1. An author's introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Cut off is deliberate. 
> 
> Also, you can thank or blame Townycod13 for this. We're in for some fun and it's all her doing.

“You’re pathetic,” Stan told him from the corner of the room. “And this is starting to get really unhealthy.” 

Kyle looked up from his laptop, setting his jaw. Stan was sitting sideways on his armchair, legs draped over the arms, his phone in his hand and looking utterly unapologetic. 

“Really,” Kyle said, leaning back against his own chair and trying not to snap. “You’re going to lecture me on this?”

“Look, I was all for this at the beginning,” Stan shifting, sitting up properly. “And it’s pretty fucking cool how far you’ve gotten, don’t get me wrong, but you’re becoming almost obsessed with this story.”

“I’m a writer,” Kyle shot back, going back to tapping on his keyboard. “I’m supposed to be obsessed with what I do. It’s printed, it’s being read, it’s making money. How it started doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Yeah, if I believed that, do you think I’d bring it up?” Stan was pulling the edge of his phone case on and off, eyes fixated on his friend. “It’s all you do now, Kyle. You’re using this as an escape and I don’t see this ending good for you.” 

“Look, you don’t have to like it!” Kyle finally snapped, spinning around in the desk chair to make sure Stan got the brunt of all his pent up emotion and wrath. “It’s my life, Stan! It’s my career and it’s my damn story!” 

“It’s _his,_ too,” Stan lifted his chin, undeterred, brown eyes flashing. “But you won’t tell him that. He deserves to _know,_ Kyle, at least that you write this stuff. He’d be heartbroken to know you kept that from him.” 

“We don’t even talk much anymore,” Kyle turned back around to the laptop, teeth grit. “He wouldn’t care.” 

Stan said nothing at first, letting Kyle type away for probably a good three minutes. 

“You know that’s not true,” He said, quietly. “Kyle, I really don’t understand you. You’re not like this.” 

He said nothing in reply, still typing, erasing and rewriting a sentence he wasn’t really paying attention to, just so it would sound like he was busy writing. 

“This isn’t fair to him,” Stan said, coming to stand behind Kyle and look over his shoulder. “He’s going to find out eventually and he’s going to be hurt if it isn’t you.”

"Are you going to tell him?" Kyle snapped, without looking over.

“Of course not. Would you just…” Stan sighed, leaning on his shoulder. “You’re an idiot, Kyle.” 

“Thanks,” The redhead snarked, refusing to look at his childhood companion. “You can forget about the next book being dedicated to you.” 

Stan shoved himself away, enough to purposely push at Kyle, before sighing. 

“Like there’s room for me anyhow!” Stan left the room, presumably to check if any of their lunch was left over. “You know they’re all for _him_.”

Kyle bit down on his tongue, stabbing the backspace button to erase everything he’d written a moment ago. 

Fuck. 

Kyle pulled his hairtie out of his hair, twisting it between his fingers as his curls slowly fell back over his ears and forehead. 

He wrapped it around his index finger, saying nothing, brows furrowed. The lamp on his desk made his hands cast eerie shadows, long and slim fingers turning into dark claws. Kyle ran his thumb over the dark blue, twisted hairtie, raising his gaze again to the laptop. 

_Casted shadows caught the King’s robes, twisting and tearing into the fabric as he hacked frantically at the seemingly non corporeal limbs._

_“Cináed!” He shouted, desperately, fear flooding his veins with ice, terror coloring his voice. “Cináed!”_

_He swore, vehemently, the green murk and thin shadows slogging his steps like wading through water. The Princess had disappeared down this path, he’d watched her with his own eyes, though the memory became hazy. Some spell, some curse, and he was far away to do any good at this point._

_“Princess!” He fell, hitting the ground hard and breathing in earth. His sword was knocked from his hand, he spat blood and pushed himself upward, against the many hands who attempted to drag him back down._

_And then, reprieve._

_The King staggered to his feet, ready for a fight, and was quelled by the look in her eyes. Twisted blue, set in a slender face, coolly leveled at the Elven Lord in a way that sparked suspicion…as though she could see your soul, hear your thoughts._

_She stood in light, the ever-bringer of sunshine and warmth, heralded by golden locks and shimmering clothes. She stepped forward, offering a hand, blue eyes never drifting from his own. The King-”_

“Stood, allowing her to assist him to his feet,” The man continued to his audience, holding the book up close to his face. “The Elven King was brash, aggressive, ill-tempered, but with the Maiden he knew he had no reason to put on a farce…she was known to him, and knew of him, every fault and flaw that colored his soul she took in stride, and at times, almost found beautiful.” 

Clyde leaned over the counter keeping the librarian’s desk inaccessible to patrons, hands propping up his face as he watched the blond read. 

“He’s so _sweet_ ,” Clyde smushed his own cheeks as the caped figure continued to read, toddlers scattered around the floor and happily listening to the boy speak. “Oh my god he loves reading to them. Craig, he loves kids. My _heart_ , dude.” 

“Please stop talking forever,” Craig asked him, scrolling on the computer while rubbing his forehead. 

Clyde wasn’t paying attention. The brunet watched two siblings sharing the guy’s cloak like a blanket, listening attentively. 

“They listen to him,” He pointed out, crossing his arms and resting his chin over them. “Craig, I’m gonna talk to him today. I’m gonna do it.” 

“Yay.” His taller friend still sounded as enthusiastic as if Clyde had asked him to scrub the public bathrooms. Which actually did need to be done, come to think of it. “Go talk to him, then. It’s your choice, dude.”

“Yeah,” Clyde said, as the man stood up and closed the book cheerfully, speaking to the kids. 

“Alright, we’re done!” Chaos chirped cheerfully. “I’ll have more tomorrow after school. Don’t- Jessie, don’t forget your pamphlet!” He handed the young girl some green folded paper and pat her on the head. “’Sall about respecting yourself…anarchy is the only way to inner peace, after all!” 

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” Clyde told Craig again, without moving. “He’s so cute.” 

“Please. Go.” 

“And next time your parents tell you that you’re grounded, you turn yourself right around and you tell ‘em that _they’re_ grounded!” Chaos inspired the plethora of youngsters scrambling to get their things. “Your feelings are important! Down the establishment! Got it, minions?”

The chime of voices nearly made Clyde squeak. Adorable. He was gonna melt into the countertop at this point and be some weird human-table hybrid. This was too cute to handle. 

Professor Chaos, as his moniker proclaimed, waved the last of the children goodbye. 

“I’m gonna talk to him,” He told Craig again, suspecting was no longer listening. “He’s coming over here. Dibs, bro, and you can’t overturn Bro-Dibs, just stay where you are.”

“He’s going to hear you, idiot.” 

Chaos bounded over, eyes scanning the desk and face brightening when he saw Clyde watching him. He held up the fantasy book, a smile splitting his face. 

“Can you put it on hold for me for tomorrow?” He asked Clyde, who was straightening to take the book and grinning wide enough to split his face. “I’ll be back, I’m gonna read again, if that’s okay-”

“Oh _hell_ yeah,” Clyde said without thinking, hearing Craig choke on a snort and begin hacking uncontrollably. “I mean, sure. If you want to. It’s nice to have a superhero around, after all,” He raised his eyebrows at that, trying to look flirtatious, but the sunlight faded out of the other boy completely. 

“Hero?” The blond’s face fell as he gestured to himself. 

He wore different shades of green, desaturated but colorful, silver accents, a headpiece almost like a crown/helmet thing. Nothing that overtly screamed villain, and Clyde couldn’t really think of any that regularly sat around and read to kids. Easy to forget. 

“I’m not a hero, I’m a supervillain,” Chaos sounded genuinely hurt, hands gripping the librarian table. “Didn’t you read your pamphlet?”

Well, fuck. He hadn’t. He’d been a little busy ogling the caped figure from afar and listening to his sweet, adorable voice as he patiently read to the kids. 

Clyde inhaled, mind racing, watching the man without blinking. Gotta pull out a save. Think fast. He wasn’t good he was bad but he hadn’t even paid attention to the paper he’d handed him, this was way too long a pause he needed to think of something to say. 

“Oh yeah, yeah of course!” Clyde’s heart pounded in his ears as he smiled, “I just…it was written so good, I thought that- that you had to be good, you know? I thought it was great!”

He was privileged enough to see the boy brighten, his pretty blue eyes lighting up like Clyde just mentioned Christmas. 

“Ohhh,” He breathed, sending chills up Clyde’s arms. “I’m so glad you liked it!”

His brain was currently being fried, Chaos was smiling at him warmly and leaning across the counter and Clyde couldn’t breathe. 

Craig was snickering behind him. Without looking, Clyde picked up a cup of pens and threw it in his direction. Chaos followed the motion with alarm, but the brunet was determined to save this. 

“I did,” He said, leaning back over the counter as pens were thrown back in his direction. “You…you have a great way with words.” 

He had to, to keep the kids’ attention so fully like he did. Clyde loved listening to him, he had a sweet voice and he was so. Cute. 

“Oh, gosh,” Chaos laughed, nearly making Clyde squeak. “Uh, I think someone needs help, actually.” 

Huh? Clyde looked over his shoulder to see one of the kids and a parent waiting to check out a book, and Craig nowhere to be found. He tripped on wayward pens, cheerfully checking them out, but when he turned around Chaos was gone. 

Clyde’s shoulder slumped. He’d been doing so well, too! 

“Did you see that?” He asked Craig, standing on his toes to try and get a glimpse if the boy was still around. “He totally lit up, he was-” 

His voice faded as he realized Craig was no longer in the island-like circle of counter that the librarians worked in. The door in the counter was open, and a sticky note was written and stuck to Clyde’s book he’d been reading. 

_Went to get sister. Grow a pair. -Craig_

“-Tucker,” The boy finished, signing in to the school. “I’m here to pick up Ruby.”

The receptionist waved, recognizing him, directing down the familiar hall. Craig shoved his hands in his pockets, pushing the door open with his shoulder and treading upstairs towards the art floor of the liberal arts building, the third floor in building so old it didn’t have air conditioning. 

Fans sat around randomly, forcing Craig to watch his step to not trip on wires. Sunlight lit up the corridor as he passed classrooms by, wishing the damn place wasn’t so hard to get cell phone reception. It would be great to just text Ruby from his car, rather than having to run inside and risk-

He heard his name being whispered, shooting a look towards a group of giggling girls who cheerfully waved at him. 

Goddammit. 

Craig turned away and kept walking, feeling his face heat. Someone had gotten a stupid idea into their heads and now he couldn’t get peace whenever he walked on campus at all. 

He came to the art studio he was looking for, a little room tucked away in the corner. A window unit flew cool air into the room, pictures hung from the ceiling, old wallpaper from when the building was build curled under framed photographs. There were a multitude of items for the drawing students, shelves of busts, teapots, bottles, candles, what-have-you, and easels absolutely everywhere. 

He didn’t immediately see his sister, eyes drawn elsewhere first. 

The teacher, a blond of just under average height, just about average weight, and somewhat average looks, and by all means the most bizarre and oddly captivating person Craig had ever encountered in his life. 

Tweek Tweak, a man about Craig’s age, shockingly blond and wild-eyed, someone he’d protested against Ruby taking classes with at first. 

After all, he was apparently a recovering addict from something that happened in his childhood with drugs, twitchy and irritable and being known to speak his mind and snap at students. 

And then he met the guy. 

The always-tired, sarcastic teacher had a sense of humor hidden under layers of irritability and sloughs of talent that he gladly shared with any student that wanted to learn. There was something that made him impossible to forget, had burned him into his brain, and there was where the problem started. 

The teacher looked up as he walked in, eyes sharp. One was blue, one a mix of blue and brown, giving him a captivating sort of look that was a little difficult to look away from. 

“Craig,” The art teacher greeted warily, head tilting to the side as he leaned against his desk. 

He realized that there were eyes on him, and inwardly panicked, going for a more impersonal greeting. 

“Mr. Tweak,” He nearly tripped over his words, finding them awkward in his own mouth. 

The blond wrinkled his nose, moving to push himself to sit on the desk entirely. “Don’t call me that, Craig.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” He kept his voice unaffected just to annoy him. “What would you like me to call you?” 

The man wrinkled his nose, freckles scrunching adorably. “Just Tweek is fine, ass- jerk.”

Aw, self censoring. This wasn’t elementary, Craig didn’t see a point, shrugging. 

“Don’t call you Tweak, call you Tweek.” Craig’s eyes sparkled. “That makes fucking sense.” 

Tweek was attractive. He remembered the first time that thought had crossed his mind, the panic it set him into, but now the thought flit across his mind with nothing more than warm acknowledgement. Tweek was attractive. 

Particularly when irritated, his eyes were sharp and more movement went into his body, more gestures with his hands and tilts of his head, indignant straightening or frustrated growling as his shoulders drew up by his ears. A rippling force of energy in the universe, a star turned into a supernova, fierce and alive and unafraid. 

Tweek drew up now, looking like he might throw something. He’d just gotten a cupful of pens thrown his direction, he wasn’t looking for more. 

“I’m here for Ruby,” He said finally, watching Tweek deflate. 

“She’s in the dark room right now,” The blond said, picking up his mug of tea and taking a sip. “With a classmate. They should be done soon, they wanted to get their prints worked on before they left.” 

“Ah.” He had no idea what to say now. Conversation was weird between them, and there were still a couple students working after class on projects. Animosity came easy and was familiar, but any kind of civility and—

People were whispering to each other, eyes on them, grinning, and Craig had the bizarre urge to run away from the stupid college-age kids. 

Everyone assumed they liked each other. Craig and Tweek had become The Topic of any art students, a tall, stoic librarian and the wild, fiery art teacher were giggled over and talked about all over campus. Craig had to be extremely careful not to be too friendly and had been doing a great job. 

And then he began realizing he minded the talk mostly because it was becoming accurate, and then things just got awkward. 

Neither were saying anything now, just staring in opposite directions as Tweek took another sip of tea. 

Craig didn’t know what his obsession with tea was. He knew he had something to do with him giving up coffee, which had something to do with whatever incident labeled him an addict, but he’d never found himself needing to ask. He was sure Tweek would volunteer that information if at any point he wanted Craig to know. 

Which he wouldn’t, dammit, because they weren’t even _friends_ , where was this stupid fucking line of thought coming from?

They were not friends. Tweek was intriguing, however, always pushing himself harder, overcoming expectations, seemingly taking a snide joy in proving people wrong. A force of nature, for certain. It wasn’t really surprising he’d caught Craig’s interest, he supposed, his personality along with the way he looked, a sharp-angled, shorter man with eyes of celestial fire and the force of will like a hurricane. 

“What are you staring at, jackass?” 

Tweek was watching him weirdly now, which made Craig think that maybe part of his thoughts had made their way into his face, and he quickly straightened, trying to think of a cover. 

Tweek’s eyelashes were pale, but long, a soft look in the angled jaw and cheekbones of a man. Craig swallowed. 

“You have paint on your face,” He said, without moving, and Tweek started and began rubbing at his cheeks. 

His heart was hammering as the door to the photography room opened, and Ruby ran over to grab her backpack. 

“One second, Craig,” She told her brother, shoving her things unceremoniously into her bag before addressing the girl who’d emerged with her. “See you, I’ll text you about math tonight.” 

“Great,” Craig faintly recognized her classmate, a girl with dark clothes and a sunny expression, who was picking up her already-packed bag and traipsing out the door. “See you! Bye, Craig!” 

He nodded, unsure of her name to respond, and Ruby walked over without zipping up her backpack, hands on her hips. 

“Have a good chat?” She was asking Craig, well aware of the gossip, and he scratched his cheek with his middle finger, a subtle gesture for his little sister to fuck right off with that shit. 

“We’re leaving,” He said brusquely, avoiding Tweek’s gaze. 

“Yeah, whatever,” He thought he saw her grin at Tweek before following him. “See you, Tweek.”

“Zip up your bookbag,” The teacher told her, saying nothing more and nothing to Craig at all. 

Craig’s heart thudded, face heating the further he got from the room. Every encounter ended up with him being stupid as fuck and he knew it. 

So did Ruby. 

The girl was smirking, walking alongside her brother with a smug expression. She was going to let him have it in the car, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. 

She waved, as they passed, over at Karen, who was standing in the hall talking to her brother, Kenny—


	2. The three see a work of art.

**Kenny M: n tell me bout ur projecttt**

**Kyle B: Over my dead fucking body. I’m not done yet.**

**Kenny M: u hvnt been done for years**

Seriously, this kid was closing him off on purpose. Kenny tossed the phone back onto his bed, watching it bounce over his ruffled white bedsheets. It was probably best to leave the situation alone for now. The fact he had to tell himself that was ridiculous. 

This wasn’t like him. Kyle was the one who was pushy, the one who would follow a topic forever until he had an answer he was satisfied with. Kenny was far too laid back for this, Stan needed to get off his back because Kyle clearly didn’t want to tell him. 

Still. The fact he kept hinting that Kenny would find it interesting intrigued him. 

Ugh. 

Kenny dropped onto his bed, watching the ceiling fan spin lazily. He really should hop online and check his assignment in blackboard, but he’d only just gotten home and was feeling lazy. If Kyle didn’t want to chat, he’d best spend his time studying. 

Kenny picked his phone back up. 

**Kenny M: cmon hot stuff gimme a hint**

**Kenny M: Jimmy promote u in the news office ?**

**Kyle B: No. No hints. I don’t even work there anymore.**

Kenny’s brows furrowed. When had that happened? When the actual fuck- 

**Kenny M: o cool asshole**

**Kenny M: were only bffs did u tell stannyboi**

**Kyle M: Yes.**

Come on. The monotone answers were so not Kyle. The fiery redhead normally couldn’t shut the fuck up, there was something going on and it was really annoying. If he wanted to be that way, Kenny wasn’t going to lose sleep over it, or even think about it ever again. 

He dropped his phone again, throwing his arms above his head as he laid on the bed. 

He loved writing, why did he quit his job at the newspaper? And what was with the secrets? Kyle didn’t keep secrets from him. Kenny was adorable and sweet and one of his best pals ever. There was no reason to keep something from him. Was he worried he’d make fun of him for a career change? 

**Kenny M: u workin at a strip club or something**

**Kenny M: can i come watch**

**Kyle B: I’M NOT A STRIPPER, KENNETH**

**Kenny M: no judgements ill bring dollars**

**Kyle B: I’m a freelancer now, that’s it!**

Kenny giggled to himself. Flustered Kyle was the literal fucking best Kyle. After confident Kyle. And angry Kyle. 

**Kenny M: as i said no judge u got the booty 4 it**

**Kyle B: I’m going to fucking block you.**

**Kenny M: u love me dude u kno it**

“What are you giggling about?” Karen had poked her head into his open door, wryly smiling at her older sibling. “Come help me hang the living room mirror, if you’re done flirting.” 

“Slave labor?” Kenny pretended to be offended as he pushed himself up cheerily. “I just got home after working my sad little fingers to the bone and now I’m being made to _work_?”

“Yup,” Karen said, hefting the large, circular mirror to her hip. “I’m almost done decorating, you can suffer a while longer.” 

“It looks really good,” Kenny said honestly, picking up the drill. “Startin’ to look super homey.” 

“That’s the plan,” Karen said, holding the mirror in place. 

He did like it. Soft colors, clean angles, Karen had an eye for design and was having a fucking blast decorating the first house the two of them ever rented. Bigger than the tiny apartment they’d lived in previously, they even had a _guest room_ for pals to come over and chill overnight in the McCormick House of Awesome. 

To be honest, he was just surprised Karen had hung around this long. 

She’d probably leave after graduation, Kenny considered as he made sure the mirror was even. Once she left uni and went into her real job. He hadn’t asked, because she hadn’t offered. She’d let him know. 

He had to be patient. 

“What do you think of the frame?” Karen was saying, interrupting Kenny’s deep thoughts. 

“The huh?” Kenny said, turning to meet a very flattering image. 

One of his full-sized charcoal drawings, set in a faux-antique-looking golden frame with leaves and flowers in metal corners. 

A princess, curling blond hair and a strong, unwavering look in her eyes, staring down at a kneeling Elf boy, curled hair and an ethereal look to his posture and face. He was beautiful, and more detailed than her, Kenny had taken his time with every twist of hair and curve of his cheek. The hint of a tree behind them depicted a forest scene, a sword dropped in the grass and wounds marring the perfect face of the beautiful Elven King. 

“Damn that suits what I wanted,” Kenny said, feeling delighted at the outcome. “Good choice.”

“Looks so good you can’t even tell the artist is a nerd, right?” Karen’s eyes sparkled as she teased her brother. “It looks really good, Kenny.” 

“Yup,” Kenny walked over to inspect it, trying not to look too close at the mistakes he knew were hidden around the frame. The princess’ hair wasn’t quite right, soft waves not what he pictured at all. Her skirts were a mess, he’d left them vague for that reason, he needed practice doing clothes. The centerpiece of the whole thing was, of course, the boy. It always was, in everything he drew of the two. 

But it was always easier for him to picture King Kai of the Elven Kingdom. The story was from his perspective, after all. 

It was easier to get into the mind of and picture someone so forthcoming about their faults, rather than the object of their perfect adoration. If the books had a fault, it was the princess seemed simply too good to be true. 

But, Kenny supposed, love did that. To some people. 

He was very able and willing to see others’ faults, himself. Even if he were in love with them. 

A pillow hit Kenny’s head with suck velocity he nearly smacked his face into the glass frame. His sister was already in the kitchen, beginning to pull out ingredients for lunch. 

“What do you wanna eat, weirdo?” She asked Kenny cheerfully, checking her black nail polish after prying open the container of leftovers. “We still have potato casserole.” 

“I’m meeting friends, actually,” Kenny said, checking the time. He really ought to go, anyhow. He’d wasted a lot of time talking to Kyle. “And I got a painting class tonight.” 

“Cool,” Karen said. “I’m eating all of this then, Kenny.” 

“Eat it then, who’s stopping you?” Kenny went to grab his phone, tying on his shoes and stepped 

Through the doors of the library with him, thank goodness, because Butters didn’t think he could walk into this place alone. Not without a cape, anyway. 

Kenny abandoned him early, oblivious, headed for the fantasy section with no clue what he was about to face. If he had the faintest idea, he’d tease the boy until Butters crawled under one of the many tables around the main room. 

Thank goodness Kenny was on some weird reading kick lately. 

The boy licked his lips, shuffling towards the librarian desk. Clyde was there, chattering excitedly with Craig while bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

His hair was a ruffled mess, he was wearing a truly professional shirt declaring _Don’t let your dreams be memes_ and his dark blue eyes were wide as they finally settled on the newcomer. 

“Butters!” Clyde more or less belly-flopped onto the library table, for a moment making Butters think he was about to crawl over the thing. “Where’ve you been? I didn’t see you last week- you won’t believe what happened yesterday-”

“Hi!” He squeaked, palms sweating. “Nice to see you, Clyde, hey-”

“What’s that?” Clyde pointed at the bookbag Butters had swung over a shoulder. “A purse?” 

_“No.”_ Butters knew first hand to always deny that, forever and ever and ever. “It’s a bookbag.” 

“You going to school?” Clyde picked at his lips, brows scrunched, a nervous habit Butters felt almost dirty for noticing, eyes automatically draw to his cute little chapped lips. 

“No,” Butters said again, he didn’t like that topic either. “Um.” This was going just awful, he was awful at this and Clyde wouldn’t stop touching his lips. “What happened yesterday?” 

“Oh!” Clyde hoisted himself up onto the desk, sitting on the librarian table and leaning over as Craig shook his head at the two, passing with an armful of books to drop onto a cart. “Oh my god, it was awesome. We had this supervillain in the library, yesterday, he was reading to the kids!” 

Butters’ heart lodged itself straight into his esophagus, beating wildly and making it awful hard to swallow. “Oh yeah?” He had to redirect this, he was full out cold sweating now, this was _not good_ and it needed to stop. 

“Yeah!” Clyde was oblivious to his panic, beaming with sweet blue eyes. “And he came over and he said _hi_ ,” He lowered his voice conspiratorially, forcing Butters to lean in slightly, “And I like totally fucked it all up, like I think I insulted him, but I saved it like a motherfucking badass. Like, he fucking lit up, he has the _cutest_ eyes, he lit up and he smiled at me, a total supervillain.” 

“That’s awful nice,” Butters stuttered, looking around for any kind of help. “Um. I bet he thought you were nice, Clyde.” 

“Maybe!” The librarian said happily. “His eyes were blue, super light though, like _crystal._ And they lit up, man.”

He was going to die. Where was Kenny? If ever Butters needed saving, it was now. He didn’t know what to say to that. His costume was great, of course, but did Clyde really not notice they had the same eye and hair color? 

Did Clyde like the color of his eyes? 

Wait, of course he liked the color of his eyes. He just said he did. 

“Hey, did you move the computer by the back door?” The taller librarian towered over Butters, who was still pretty tall himself, speaking right over his head so he jumped out of his skin. 

“Noooo,” Clyde turned around and pushed himself off the desk. “They won’t be here until six, Craig, jeez. Let a guy talk.” 

He picked up a monitor, one that looked like it was up to date in the 90’s, hefting it with some difficulty as Craig went back to stocking books. 

He was stupidly cute. Butters watched in dismay as Clyde grumbled, hands gripping the strap of his bag. Sweet, blue-eyed boy, awfully oblivious and goofy and thinking himself some kind of crazy good flirt. 

“Need help?” Butters suddenly blurted, dropping his bag, eyes still fixated on the brunet. 

“Uh, if you can grab the door, man, that’d be great.” Clyde waited as Butters scrambled to lift the portion of the desk that allowed the librarians off and on the main floor. “Thanks.”

“’Course,” Butters said softly, as Clyde passed him by. The boy shot him a smile and Butters ducked his head. 

He was awfully small. Comparatively, anyway, he was like… 5’4 or 5’5 or something. Shorter than him. He didn’t know why that made his heart pound so hard in his chest. Clyde was short and soft, perfect for snuggling or hugs. He might be able to rest his chin on his head. 

Butters stood there and held the door, face blank. He was pretty, in a boyish way. The boyish version of pretty. Handsome? Kind of? He wasn’t…awfully good with words but Clyde was an awful lot of something. Something special. 

“Stop staring,” Craig whispered as he passed by, making Butters start and drop the door, the folded top slamming back into place. 

“Gosh!” He blurted, waiting for heart to calm back down. “Aw, Craig-”

“Monitor broke,” Clyde was saying as he bounded back. “It’s only like…ass-years old- hey, Kenny!” 

Butters’ friend was back, with a book from his favorite series tucked under his arm. He beamed at the sight of Clyde, which made the shorter blond’s stomach twist uncomfortably. 

He loved Kenny, he was one of his best pals ever….he didn’t mind that Butters was stupid and weird, he knew what it was like to come from a past you had to move on from and make the best of, he was strong and brave and a good person, if not kind of stupid when it came to considering what other people needed. 

But he knew for a fact he’d smooched Clyde at least once and ever since he’d felt a little distraught. He wasn’t as tall or good-looking as Kenny. He was like a pudgy, awkward knock off. 

Kenny was talking happily with Clyde, who checked out his book for him, and Butters shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets. 

Gosh he was a loser. And a bad friend. 

“Yeah, we’re headed to the school, next, I have a painting class and Butters has work, right-” Kenny cut himself off, brows furrowing over startlingly vivid eyes, as his gaze settled on his friend. 

“Where do you work?” Clyde was asking him, and Butters swallowed heavily. 

“Um, the school down the road,” He gestured at nothing. “Just…just administrative stuff, and….and stuff. Nothing exciting, I’m not a teacher or nothing.” 

Slow realization dawned on Kenny’s face, a near-silent “oooohh” being whispered to him as Clyde (rather loudly, for a library) called over to Craig. 

“Hey, isn’t that where-”

Tweek didn’t like how this was turning out. He rubbed his forehead, resting his elbows on the desk. 

His painting was taped flat to the table, something only done when working with watercolors. Tweek was very good with sketches, he was excellent with acrylic and even oil paints, he was probably the best at sculpting, but watercolors were a medium he still wasn’t sure what he was doing in. However, that wasn’t the main problem today. 

His composition was good and he felt his idea was visually interesting. In pen against the solid white background, half of a male face. Thick eyelashes, high cheekbones, half-lidded eyes. He breathed the universe like one saw frost in winter, life and creation between lips and fogging in front of his face, stars and planets and novas bringing light to the blank canvas. 

He picked up the pen and fixed the edge of his eyelashes next to his nose, careful and steady swipes. The lashes looked almost feathery, but the person still emitted a feeling of anger. 

He just couldn’t get that right. 

He never saw expressions like that before. How every inch of his face could radiate unfriendliness, yet he could gather such a feeling of warmth and affection that it shook him mentally and physically. He couldn’t get that across on paper. He was missing something. 

Tweek settled back against his chair, carefully checking which cup he picked up before taking a drink of warm tea. He’d taken an accidental sip of more paintwater cups than he wanted to admit to. 

His hand was shaking slightly, tea swishing against the sides of the cup. 

He reached up with his other hand, steadying the bottom. He grit his teeth. Goddamn hands. Years later he was still fucking suffering, struggling to even hold a fucking-

Breathe. 

Tweek carefully set the cup down, closing his eyes. He opened them, gaze flitting across the room. Sunlight filtered through the windows, turning the room gold. The plants he cared for were growing well, glowing green-gold as the breeze brushed past them. 

Strawberries, reaching their end season, a bush of snow princess flowers, chrysanthemums about to bloom. The familiar smell of his classroom, paint and charcoal and wet clay. The taste of green tea on his tongue, a soft hint of the chocolate-covered pecans he’d been snacking on. 

Tweek exhaled, fingers brushing over the desk. Everything was okay. 

His painting sucked, though. 

Tweek ripped up the tape and tore it in half. It didn’t look anything like him. 

There was something too subtle there. The slight movement of his brows could change his whole face, from bitchy and grouchy to uncomfortable, from tired and irritable to amused, he guarded his face so closely around him it drove him insane. 

It didn’t used to be like this. They used to heckle each other and make fun and nearly outright be rude, and it had been fun. Craig had grinned, broadly, or smirked, or sneered. He had braces up until last year, he hadn’t even known adults wore braces. He shrugged when Tweek got angry, smiled when he insulted him, laughed once…once… and then a month later it was back to stony looks and formal speech. 

He knew why. He hated why. He had panic attacks at school, at home, at the organic grocery store, what if what if what if. Would they fire him for flirting with a male while working, would they suspect him of indecent behavior, he just the weird gay art teacher and nothing else, would his identity become just that and only that he didn’t want to be a stereotype he didn’t want to lose what he tried so hard to be he managed to stop being the weird ex-addict don’t make him someone else don’t make him don’t don’t don’t don’t please-

Tweek ripped it again, twisting it again with closed eyes, feeling the textured paper and still damp paint. Smell the watercolors, taste tea, feel paint, hear wind, see plants. Breathe. 

He didn’t know what he wanted. 

He didn’t know what Craig wanted. 

The door burst open, and he whirled on the two newcomers to lay down his wrath. 

“You fucking KNOCK!” He snapped at them, infuriated. “You’re going to knock shit over- make someone mess up their artwork- this is _my_ room you get right back out there and knock!” 

His most obnoxious and talented student Kenny didn’t look phased, politely rapping on the door before strolling in with his armful of paint supplies. “Sorry, we got excited.” 

“You have a letter,” Butters Stotch said miserably, the aide setting it on his desk, knowing he didn’t like to be handed things. “I’ll be downstairs. Bye.”

Tweek watched him warily, the open book of a boy wrapping his arms around himself as he left the room. 

The twitchy blond stared at Kenny, who was setting up at one of the fifteen desks. 

“That wasn’t my fault,” The other boy defended. “He’s…he’s having a rough time. What’s that?” 

Tweek didn’t break eye contact as he threw the pieces of his painting into the garbage, most missing the can. “A mistake.” 

“Cool.” Kenny didn’t look interested, clearly involved in something else. He plopped into his seat, pulling out a bag of chips. “Where’s everyone else?” 

“You’re really early,” Tweek grumbled, fighting off the nervous twitches of his left shoulder. His eyelid was bothering him. “Non-art stuff away.”

“Class hasn’t started yet, and anyway this isn’t a real class,” Kenny shoved a handful of chips into his mouth before putting the bag away. “It’s a fun class.” 

“For _you_ ,” Tweek didn’t mind grumbling and complaining around Kenny. The kid was wildly intuitive and was one of the few people who had exactly 0 problems with Tweek. “How is your degree going, jackass?” 

“Should be a teacher by next year!” Kenny said cheerfully. “Or start my hours, anyway. Gotta do sit ins and shit.” 

“You couldn’t pay me enough to work with kids,” Tweek grumbled, taking another careful sip of tea, keeping the liquid even. 

“Nah, it’s way better than working with jackass adults.” Kenny insisted, flipping open the pages of a book. “Kids are great, man. They’re so crazy and fun.” 

“I said no non-art shit,” Tweek snatched the book away, to Kenny’s voiced protest, mismatched eyes sparking teasingly as he immediately scowled at the title. “What kind of stupid story is titled-”


	3. Everybody is awkward

The Vivid Blue needed a proper continuation. Kyle was tapping on his phone, little details he didn’t trust himself to remember, though much less frequently than the majority of times he was out in public. 

It was a bit difficult to write stories of charming, clever, raunchy blondes while tailing a charming, clever, and raunchy blond.

Kenny nearly bounced on his feet as he walked down the sidewalk, quiet and grinning so broadly his smile nearly split his face. 

Kyle’s own smile was a bit crooked. It was hard not to linger on the soft flood of affection and familiarity. It was the kind of thing that made his emotions confusing…had puzzled him for years. 

It took him crushing hard on an MD/PhD bound student at his prestigious university to make a realization, and slowly come back to looking at Kenny with a terrifying realization. 

Kyle tapped enter until he had room to type a new paragraph in his notes. And it continued onward. 

_There was something confounding in growing up with an individual and having one’s feelings change; he once watched Cináed play in the dirt, skirts filthy and hair mussed, teasingly threatening to give him a kiss as he fought her off in play, wooden sword in hand._

_Now he stood behind her, sharp tongue silenced, green eyes guarded, watching golden hair gleam in the sunlight and keep his heart steady as she smiled._

_How did one woo a childhood friend, he wondered? How did one explain the change from platonic feelings of comradery and nostalgia to feelings of love? There wasn’t a way he felt comfortable to speak, if only because it was difficult to properly explain._

_These were not different feelings, only evolved. Those feelings of fondness and friendship remained. They were only now intertwined, knit close to feelings of adoration, longing, a stronger sense of care that bordered on being impractical._

_He loved the woman he now had to learn to be reacquainted with the years having passed, just as he loved the girl he knew as well or better than he knew his own mind._

“You texting your girlfriend while I’m trying to get your attention?” Kyle looked up to see Kenny’s eyes sparkling at him. “You’re going to get hit by a car, babe.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Kyle said automatically, swatting at him with his heart pounding. He didn’t not need to see anything he was working on, but he needed to get this down while he was thinking of it. 

“Cool, me neither,” Kenny said cheerfully, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, art pack swinging from a shoulder. “Or boyfriends. I’m playing single for a little while.”

Kyle’s heart was in his throat. “Me too,” He said awkwardly, clicking his phone off. 

Kenny said nothing, still walking backwards, as if waiting for Kyle to say something else. Kyle kept his mouth shut, grabbing Kenny by the sleeve to keep him from running into a mother who gave the taller boy a dirty look. 

Kyle had avoided touching Kenny all day. The boy was warm, giggling the event away, alive and bright and absolutely within reach if he’d just make a move. 

Knowing Kenny, the worst thing that would happen is he’d be lightly teased. He’d most likely be flattered, maybe even touched, and Kenny would be sweet enough to let things return to normal. 

Kyle took his hand away. 

This was what Stan meant. Why he kept pushing for Kyle to talk to him, why he kept hinting that Kenny might not reacted poorly. Kyle was overly infatuated and he was just trying to help. Which was fine, great, but he had a plan and was sticking to it. 

“I’ll give you a whole dollar for that thought you’re having right now,” Kenny said suddenly, walking shoulder to shoulder with the redhead. “You’re gonna have _mad_ wrinkles when you’re old, dude.” 

“Stan,” Kyle blurted, reiterated when Kenny burst out laughing. “You- I just mean he’s been better lately, have you noticed?” 

“Course!” Kenny said, opening the door for Kyle as they stepped into the building, Kenny waving at his friends as he leaned in towards Kyle to chat. “Aw, Ky, he used to come to me and Karen’s apartment just a wreck. It’s so good to see him happy again. Stanny-boy’s a good boy.” 

Kyle smiled, slightly, saying nothing as Kenny stuck close. 

Stan looked way better than he had in years. His skin was clearer, the pale, blanched look was purged by a healthy color, he smiled more and even became nearly optimistic a time or two. 

Kyle had nothing to do with any of it. 

He’d been so wrapped up in everything, his own struggles, his frustration with schooling and himself, he’d neglected to notice Stan had been suffering so badly. 

It was Kenny who brought it to his attention. Kyle had withdrawn from everything, with some stupid, idiotic idea of ‘leaving it all behind’ and ‘starting new’ only to find he’d turned into a pretentious, snobbish, and hypocritical asshole. 

It was Kenny who brought that to his attention, as well. Bluntly. And he still talked to Kyle after that tongue-lashing the redhead gave him soon after. He still 

Kyle swallowed, opening his notes as Kenny trotted ahead. 

_“I wish to apologize,” The Elven King stood beside his old guard, the newly-adorned lord with jewels on his chest and gold adorning his fingers-_

No, this wasn’t something he could get over just by writing. But it wasn’t like he could say that, anyhow. ‘Hey, sorry I totally fucked off for years and left you to suffer crippling depression alone and with no one to turn to. I’m glad you’re better now and I’m sorry I’m a shit friend.’ 

Kenny came back to plop a book into his hands. He took a look at Kyle, cocked his head, and poke the furrow between his eyebrows. 

He looked so cheerful, Kyle knew he couldn’t unload this onto him. It was a dumb fucking thing to be obsessing over, anyhow. 

He was selfish. Selfish and too aggressive. His first thought was for himself, his care was almost violent and invasive and he wasn’t going to change that. 

_The opposing Wizard was brutal, sadistic, always with a way to achieve his goal or manipulate someone into agreeing with him._

_The ex-guard of the King was cynical, jaded, unhappy with the world, with a soft spot for friends only…the rest of the world could die._

_The King himself was angry, strict, unwavering in the wrong places and easy to fly into a temper. He wore flat rings in his youth, to prevent strikes from damaging the bones in his fingers._

_He needed a change, though he never would. He’d never care to._

Kenny was the type to shrug things off, joke things away, use shock humor instead of just asking for attention in healthier ways…but he was genuinely the best of the four. 

He grew up responsible, level-headed, practical, considerate. He had some horrendous self-confidence he hid behind some awful jokes and Kyle found that bewildering. 

“You’re starting to look worse,” Kenny’s tone softened. “Bro. Babe. You look constipated.”

“Kenny, shut up for a second,” His friend told him, and Kenny made a show of rolling his eyes where Kyle could see. 

He chewed his lip, trying to get it in order. There really wasn’t a goo way to do this, and he was always called too wordy and preachy anyhow, but-

“Thanks for looking out for him,” Kyle just outright said, wanting to get that out. “I know I didn’t. Thank you for not leaving him alone.” 

Kenny froze, gripping the book to his chest, something soft and almost tender passing though his eyes. He smiled before he lightly slapped a book into his hands. 

“We’re all good. You, me, and Stan. So pep up. And hold my books for me. Like a gentleman.” 

“I’m not a gentleman,” Kyle snarked, trying very hard not to look at the book as he bemoaned Kenny’s inability to have a meaningful conversation. He knew that cover, pale green and sunlit forests in oil paints. 

“Ooh, Broflovski, you one of those bad boys?” Kenny purred, voice lowering to the point that Kyle nearly jumped. “I’m into that.” 

“Shut up,” Kyle was trying very hard not to laugh in the fucking library, swatting at him again. “You’re back reading this stupid shit?” 

“Stop insulting me,” Kenny tapped the cover obnoxiously, repeatedly. “This ain’t some harlequin novel. You’d love it. It’s fantasy and tasteful romance.” 

“Tasteful,” Kyle scoffed, heart thudding in his chest. “Sure.” 

“Look, it’s pretty well done,” Kenny said, insulting Kyle’s self-confidence horribly. “The story can get a little wordy and the Princess is kind of annoying-”

“What?!” Kyle had to cover his ass quickly, but holy shit that was insulting as fuck. “A- a princess you’re not printing out pictures of and posting on your walls?” 

Kenny laughed, quietly. “Hey now,” He said, grinning. “I might be a boob man, but I love everything there is to offer. Kingy’s hot shit and way more tolerable.” 

That was absolutely the opposite of what he expected. Kyle turned that over in his head, chewing on the inside of his lip thoughtfully. “Why’s that?” 

“Aw, babe, she’s a perfect little princess,” Kenny took the book and began flipping through it. “He like, idolizes her. It’s a little annoying, I’m reading this for the action and romance, mostly, I think you’d love the fights and stuff.” 

Kyle was going to die of embarrassment. What a criticism. He stood there as Kenny criticized one part and another, praised odd things, didn’t pay any attention to some parts he’d written specifically for Kenny. 

Did he idolize Kenny? 

_Plaits of gold, eyes of the depthless blue, the ability to build or destroy the King in a few simple words-_

“I don’t think so,” He blurted, making Kenny look up in surprise. 

“Don’t think what?” Kenny asked, blue eyes puzzled. 

“I don’t think it’s idolization,” Kyle said firmly, jaw set. “I…when you mentioned it, I flipped through it, the princess seemed perfectly tolerable.” 

“See-naid is fine,” Kenny insisted, flipping back through the book, and holy God Kyle barely managed not to smack him. 

It was literally pronounced kin-nee. It was why he picked it, the dumb fuck. Kyle had the wild urge to laugh. 

The characters of the book, Cináed and Kai, literally pronounced Kin-nee and Ky… Kenny’s name and latter being the stupid, hated nickname he gave Kyle in middle and high school. 

This stupid fucking moron, Kyle loved him more than anything else in the world. 

“She’s just a little annoyingly perfect,” Kenny settled on a page. “Just listen to how he describes her-”

_-What he once described as ‘breathless beauty,’ in poetry he wrote and kept, shoved between old parchment and cracked books, a vibrant, glowing beauty that radiated, both drew and offended, kept Kai close and kept him from approaching too brashly._

“How about we not?” Kyle interrupted him. “I said I read it, not that I liked it.” 

Kenny snorted, striking his heart before pouting and snapping the book shut. “Jesus, jackass.” 

This was just turning into a mess. Kyle sighed, rubbing his forehead. He wanted to go home and write, try something constructive if he was never going to fix this. 

Honestly, all he did was fuck things up further, and he honestly wasn’t meaning to. He could get across his adoration, respect, and love in writing easily. Easily enough that Kenny could crush on his fictional counterpart. It just was impossible to transfer to real life. 

Actually. Wait. 

“Relax, dude,” Kenny tucked the book under his arm. “It’s just a book.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow at him, realization slowly dawning. 

_He stood before her, heart in hand-_

He wasn’t sure whether or not to laugh. 

_A burning wall of fire unable to keep him safely away from her or the shattering truth she was determined to bring him to-_

This story was part of his life, his success had dragged him out of his confusion and frustration, it had been a way for him to finally express what he felt safely, without admitting what a fucking loser he was. 

_He was nothing, truly, only pretention and snobbery protecting a glass heart-_

It was years of work and final success. 

_He worked harder than anyone and made sure they knew it. They had to know it, he didn’t have much to his name but this, a crown by chance and nothing, nothing else-_

It was what was going to impress Kenny. 

_Not like her, who built her empire and laid out her accomplishments with a humbler sort of pride, the pride in which one shared the bread they baked instead of waving ringed fingers at a full table._

He ended up laughing. 

He dragged his hands through his hair, covering his face. It was a book. Just a bunch of pages he typed up in his spare time, a shadow of real life. A means to make himself feel like he accomplished something. 

It was just a book. 

“Yeah,” Kyle dropped his hands, feeling both offended and oddly vindicated. Stupid idiot. Had no idea that it was written for him, waiting for the day it was completed and finished and well off and he could walk up to Kenny with that under his accomplishments and offer him something real. 

A melding of his feelings for Kenny and longing, his wish to be better. Take back things that were said and say things he might fuck up face to face. He hadn’t started the book with Kenny in mind. But of course it ended up this way. All of it. 

Kyle’s eyes drifted to Kenny’s uncertain, confused smile, the bag still on his shoulder, and he made his decision. 

“Show me what you’re working on in class,” he demanded, and Kenny’s smile was luminous. 

He pulled out a canvas and Kyle made a swipe to clear off the table, sending a 

Pamphlet fluttering to the floor, Clyde had picked it up six times but he kept knocking it off the counter by accident. He picked it up again, staring at it before setting it on the counter. 

UNPREDICTABILITY, ANARCHY, AND HOW YOUR LIFE IS ABOUT TO IMPROVE!

Defintely one of Chaos’ advertisements. Clyde stared at it, pausing in his task of adding new, donated books to their inventory. He had some orders to grab from other libraries. Needed to go around and stalk the carts. Lots to do. 

Clyde kept staring. 

It was a nice design, pale green with white letters. It was really aesthetically pleasing, to be honest. Needed something like a picture on the front, though. Something cool and badass. Or weird and kinda sweet. Like a smileyface. Just enough to be kinda creepy. 

“Excuse me,” He heard, looking up to have his heart stop. 

The girl was adorable. That was his first thought. Long, platinum blonde hair in low pigtails, elegantly cascading over a grey blouse and a pink skirt with a bow. She had bows in her hair, too. Bows were insanely cute, and so was she. 

“Hi!” Clyde blurted, taking his eyes away from creepin on her sweet posture and soft frame. “I’m Clyde!”

This was not how he was supposed to greet visitors and he was very glad Craig wasn’t around to laugh at him. If the grumpy butt was done being sulky enough to laugh, that is. 

“I’m Marjorine,” The girl had a sweet, soft smile, lips pink with gloss and eyes pale, sweet blue. 

“Hi,” Clyde said again, leaning on the desk. She was cute. Her lashes were long and dark, she had such a sweet smile. “Uh, hey! Can I find you something?” 

“Oh, gosh, I don’t know,” Her voice twinkled, slim, French-tipped fingers pressing against her glossy lips. “I think I might’ve left something here the other day.” 

“Yeah, sure!” Clyde fumbled, slipping the key band off his arm to unlock the lost-and-found. “What did you lose?” 

“Ummm, a bag.” Marjorine folded her hands under her chin, lip pouting slightly. “I know I left it by the desk, here.” 

“Huh.” Sunglasses, hair ties, a key, four chargers, lots and lots of headphones, a hat, even a phone they’d let the owner know they left behind. But no bag. “I, uh- I don’t see it. When did you leave it here?”

“This…week…” Clyde looked up to see Marjorine tugging her fingers though one of her ponytails. “It’s blue.”

“I don’t remember seeing you,” The brunet said automatically, immediately backpedaling. “I just mean, I’d remember seeing you. I remember everyone! I have a fantastic memory!” Brains, though, lacking fucking brains. Someone end him now. 

The girl was giggling, and Clyde’s face was hot. Craig was going to bring this up forever if he’d overheard, and he took a quick glance to see him stocking books. Good. Stay over there, jerk. He didn’t need to be laughed at right now. 

“I was here!” Marjorine twisted a ribbon around her fingers. “I… I didn’t talk to you.” 

Of course she didn’t, he was behaving like a creeper. Clyde barely- only just barely- refrained from beating his head against the desk. 

“Right.” Clyde’s eyes flit back up to her, soft grey sweater fuzzy and loose over a shoulder, blonde waves cascading. He’d definitely remember. “Yep. Uh…” There wasn’t really anything cool to say about her having lost her purse. “I’m real sorry, but I don’t see it here.” 

Marjorine licked her lips, dark eyelashes batting. “Gosh, that’s too bad, I guess.” 

“Yeah,” Clyde said stupidly, picking at his own sleeve. 

“But isn’t that it, over there?” The girl pointed with painted nails, with an open hand. “That looks like my bag.” 

Clyde turned, noticing the bag sitting behind the desk by his own. What? Nah. 

“No, that’s Butters’,” He cocked his head, leaning forward with his arms on the desk. “He left it here a couple days ago.” 

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s mine,” Marjorine was saying, and Clyde wasn’t a moron. 

“No it’s not,” He argued. “It was Butters, I was tossing out a computer and he offered to help me. I’m not likely to forget _that_. So it might look like it, but it’s not yours.” 

The girl seemed taken aback. She drew back, face turning pink, pulling the ribbon straight out of her pigtail. “Well-”

Craig finally showed up, saying nothing but setting a torn encyclopedia page on the desk and staring, blankly, greyish eyes settling on the girl. 

That was his ‘fuck off’ look, but the one where it was only ‘kinda’ fuck off instead of ‘I’ll kill you if you don’t’ fuck off. Which honestly was super rude, the girl was talking to Clyde and honestly things had been going okay, but the girl turned around immediately without another word and speed-walked out to the lobby. Clyde

Honestly had no idea the girl was probably trying to steal something, obviously busy thinking with his dick instead of brains. He didn’t have time for this. He felt sick, he was tired, his shift was entirely too long and Craig had a pounding headache that was steadily getting worse. 

Past couple months had just been shit for him, honestly. 

He sidled past Kenny and a friend spreading papers and canvas over a table. The redhead shot him a glare, like he expected him to tell them to fuck off, but honestly he didn’t give a shit. 

He wanted Tylenol and a nap. He didn’t feel like having an argument with one of six people in the building, particularly in this weird-ass situation. Kenny was busy trying to give the guy enticing looks, he caught some snippet of conversation about the redhead, Kyle, being drawn for class. Possibly naked. Which was vehemently refused but he had enough at that point and went to the other side of the room. 

Why anyone would want to sit in a room and let someone stare at them while they drew didn’t make sense. It sounded just a little creepy to him. Especially given the way Kenny was trying to sidle up to him. 

Gross. 

Craig rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm, reaching the next cart and pulling books on painting into his arms. Three hours left. 

It was times like this that he brought out old shows and a ratty, disgusting old blanket to wrap around himself. He’d pick up something warm to eat on the way home. Maybe drop by the store and grab some carrots, too, if he was having a shit day maybe Spot 1 was having a shit day too. Break out his old Gundam discs. Listen to the rain. 

Craig paused in his planning, sliding a book about impressionism into place without looking away. 

Tweek Tweak, face streaked with something orangey-red, slowed as well, one eye blue, one eye half-brown, both directly fixed on Craig’s. 

What book was he holding? Craig’s eyes flit down, not recognizing the title, but it looked like it was on sculpting. There was red caked under his fingernails, as well. 

“Sculpt?” Craig tried to keep too much interest out of his voice. 

“Yeah.” Tweek’s gaze was sharp, streaks of orange in his wild hair and looking like an honest mess. 

Craig’s lips started to twitch, despite himself. He scrambled for something to say. Anything to justify standing here looking at him. 

“I like physical books,” Tweek snapped, eyes glittering, “They’re comforting. Laugh, asshole, you’re the one who works here.” 

He thought he was making fun of him. Craig opened his mouth to simply reassure him that wasn’t the case. 

“Physical books and tea, are you eighty years old?” He really did smile then, watching Tweek bristle before the taller boy picked up a book from the cart. “I’ve been looking at this when I get to actually sit down for a second or two.” 

“Astronomer’s Handbook?” Tweek wrinkled his nose, though a reluctant smile curved his lips. “Are you some kind of space nerd?” 

“Have to do something at work,” Craig brushed the accusation off. “I don’t get to play in playdough.” 

“Whatever,” Tweek’s shoulder twitched, but his smile widened. “If you want to read books about things that far beyond your reach for fun, I don’t care. Have your existential crises.”

“Yeah, what qualifies as ‘space’ starts just over sixty miles up,” Craig jabbed his finger upward. “You could drive to space in about an hour. We’re closer than people think.” 

“What?” Tweek’s dark brows furrowed under ruffled strawberry-blond locks. “And exactly how close to planes get to space, then, SpaceBrain?” 

“Planes get about eight miles off the ground.” Craig enjoyed the suspicious look on Tweek’s face. “Really. NASA made a plane themselves called Helios, named after the Greek Titan of the sun. It got about twenty miles up but that’s it. A third of the way to space. That’s how far we are right now from Brighton.” 

Tweek was leaning back against the bookshelves, listening, and Craig moved further down the aisle to lean against the other side. 

“Rockets get off the ground because they don’t use air, like planes.”

“I know that, stupid,” Tweek interrupted. “Otherwise they couldn’t fucking go straight up.” 

“Don’t swear in my fucking library,” Craig retorted. 

Tweek laughed. It was odd, a squeaking, scratchy sort of sound, but his eyes crinkled up and he grinned, revealing ugly teeth, and Craig’s heart just about jumped out of his chest. 

His own teeth were also fucked up, thanks to a totally incompetent orthodontist. He had no room to judge. 

His nausea was still getting worse, whether due to his headache or the teacher’s laughter, he wasn’t sure. He was staring, gangly and tall over the other man, tracing the shelf behind him with an absent hand. 

He was sweating, too, and he had no idea what was triggering what at this point. 

“I-” Craig’s fingers gripped the shelf as he regained the artist’s attention. “I feel like shit, don’t get clay on my books, Clyde will check you out.”

And then he walked away, past the desk where Clyde was dejectedly staring at a blue bag, not even able to warn him he was stepping off the floor for a second. 

He threw up in the bathroom, realizing this was probably the flu, actually, and he needed to go home. 

Fuck him. 

He felt irrationally angry, splashing his too-pale face with water, letting the faucet run cold over his wrists. 

He didn’t know what he wanted. 

He didn’t want to date him, to have that title slapped onto him, but he wanted that smile, enjoyed the laugh, felt a little touched at how he’d just leaned against the shelves and listened, restless eyes flitting back and forth between his own as he relaxed. 

Relaxed around him, most of the time. He always had. Craig didn’t think anyone could find something comforting in a skinny, tall asshole with a bad resting bitchface and a standoffish attitude with stranger, but-

He wasn’t really a _stranger,_ was he? He was Tweek, he was…

They weren’t friends, because Craig wouldn’t be okay with that. 

Just that, anyway. 

He didn’t know what he wanted. 

Craig lifted his eyes, a tired-looking, pasty face in normally healthy skin staring back at him. He wasn’t one to feel self conscious, but Tweek always shoved him into the realm of ‘not usual’. 

He didn’t know what he wanted. Or yes, he did. 

He needed to go home right now. 

He reached out, turning the handle to squeakily turn off the-


	4. Someone gets Somewhere

Faucet, giving himself a cursory glance in the mirror. His hair looked kinda good today, dashingly ruffled over sultry blue eyes no man could withstand. He waggled his eyebrows, lowering his eyelids to flirtatious perfection, pressing his lips against his fingertips and blowing a kiss towards his own image. 

If only it were that easy. 

Kenny turned off the sink, drying his hands before sauntering over beside Kyle and picking up a knife to begin chopping salad. 

The redhead had ceased ranting by now, busy rinsing pasta with a heavy scowl. 

Kenny watched him fondly, tilting his head at the oblivious dude. He’d be a sexy man, even when he was old and sporting wrinkles from looking so frustrated all the time. 

“Been a while since you made me lunch.” Kenny’s voice ended up softer than he intended, bordering on overly sweet. 

There, he had Kyle’s attention again. Brownish-green eyes settled on him, analyzing and harsh. 

Smart, cute boy. Kenny winked at him, watching Kyle turn around, flustered. So easily shaken by such little things. The blond grinned, happily tossing salad leaves into a bowl and relaxing into the warm, fuzzy feelings of chilling with someone you knew better than yourself.

Because he did, honestly. Kyle was an open book most of the time, for better or worse. 

God, he’d missed him. 

“I missed you.” 

The words weren’t Kenny’s, but Kyle’s, as the redhead meticulously poured pasta back into the pot with more care than needed. 

Well shit, what did you say to that? Some lame kind of ‘you too?’ Kenny scratched his cheek, slowly setting down the knife. 

“Yeah, you dropped off the face of the earth for a second there, man,” Kenny watched Kyle scowl, pulling up his sleeves and leaning back against the counter. “Thought you were tired of me.” 

“Never.” Kyle’s vehement answer made Kenny smile. 

He was willing to leave it on that, but that apparently set the redhead off. The boy was nearly in his face now, poking him in the chest with a look of utmost fury. 

“That was my fault,” The boy said, poking him a second time. “I had some shit to figure out, but I was not ‘tired’ of you. I’m never going to be tired of you.”

“Aww.” Kenny wasn’t trying to be funny, that was genuinely sweet. 

“I’m working on it,” Kyle said, firmly, like a promise. “You’re one of my best friends and I’m always going to want you around.” 

“Well, let me know if I can help you, dude.” Kenny meant that, absolutely. “Even if it’s just an ear to listen.” 

The look he got from Kyle melted his heart. The boy smiled, eyes soft, leaning back from his aggressive approach on Kenny. 

“Thanks,” The shorter boy said, relaxing from his taut posture. Boy was so stressy all the time. 

Kenny ruffled his hair, just to piss him off, a grin spreading over his lips. “What’s next, my dearest darling?” 

“Pshh.” Kyle allowed the goofy name but made a dismissing hissing sound as he whirled back around to the stove. “I’m making the sauce for the pasta. Add the mushrooms, pimentos, and artichokes to the salad and then take the steaks outside to grill.” 

“Mmhm.” Kenny obediently began slicing the washed mushrooms, sneaking a soft, teasing look in his direction. “This make me the dutiful husband in this marriage, Kyle?”

Kyle whirled, ready to chew him out for the joke, and Kenny tried to disarm it before it began. 

“Kidding, kidding. Wives are amazing but you’re not a girl. Or feminine. Unless you want to be.” Kenny carelessly waved the knife in a light circle. “You’re a manly, sexy, hot piece of Ivy League ass.” 

“Ex-Ivy League.” Kyle corrected, almost automatically, looking like he was deciding whether or not to pursue the topic. He went back mixing up the ingredients for the sauce. 

“Still.” Kenny scooped up sliced mushrooms and tossed them into the salad. “Definitely something to slap on your resume.” 

“University drop out. Some experience had, please hire immediately.” Kyle snarked, and Kenny was going to smack him. 

“Hey, leave the self-deprecating jokes to me,” He said, brushing past to nudge him gently as he grabbed the jar of pimentos from the counter. “You take that away from me and I’ve got nothing, Ky.”

“Bullshit,” The redhead nudged him back, harder. “I couldn’t be prouder of you, honestly.” 

Well fuck him sideways. He might just melt into a puddle, right here on the nice tile of Kyle’s kitchen. Kenny laughed, awkwardly, genuinely lost on what he could say to that. “Hey.” Hey? Really? What possessed him to go with that?

Kyle was seemingly absorbed in the pasta sauce, not responding to that with more than a quiet, thoughtful look. 

Kenny wasn’t working anymore. 

He leaned on the counter, forearms resting against the cool granite as he watched him. He tapped his toe against the tile of the floor before straightening, unable to hold his curiosity back. 

“I mean, yeah,” Kenny spoke lightly, heart thudding in his chest. “It’s somethin’ when the slut-boy of rural Colorado makes something of…” He trailed off, seeing Kyle’s face skip past red to whiten with rage. 

“Don’t.” The wordy, preachy boy couldn’t seem to manage more than that. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.” 

Aw. “Babe, that’s like…the lighter part of me. I’ve been around, I don’t make any secrets of that.”

“Don’t call me babe, Kenny,” Kyle said, barely addressing the nickname before flying forward. “You aren’t any fucking different from anyone else, you’re just open about it.”

Kenny opened his mouth and Kyle cut him to the chase. 

“I’m fine with you.” The boy narrowed his eyes at him. “You can stop with the stupid jokes already.” 

Not on his life. Or death. But Kenny just leaned against the counter, tilting his head, watching Kyle with curious eyes. 

Was he joking about that because he thought Kyle wasn’t alright with him? I mean, kind of. But in a romantic way. Like…Kyle wouldn’t go for a previously poor kid, someone unimpressive, who had a string of romantic and sexual interests behind him. That’s not someone who gets the snobby, hotheaded rich boy. He had to tell himself that before he did something stupid. 

Kenny rested his chin on his arms, still leaning on the granite, watching. 

“You know,” He said, careful. Feeling the atmosphere. “What I like best about those shitty romantic books?” 

Kyle’s lips pressed together. “No,” He said. 

“I like the idea of childhood pals gettin’ all hot for each other one day,” Kenny pushed the knife carefully further away from himself. Just in case. “To me, that feels comfortable. You know almost everything about them. And that’s kinda nice.” 

The other boy was still, staring down at his counter. Kenny waited. Watched. 

“You get to watch someone grow up,” Kyle murmured, “Grow and morph and change. See how you’ve influenced them, and they’ve influenced you, how they’ve made you better.” 

Ha. “I don’t think I’ve made _you_ any better,” Kenny teased, and Kyle looked him straight in the eyes. 

“I think you have.” Deadass. Kenny nearly recoiled it was so startling. “You aren’t afraid to call me out on my shit.” 

“That I’m not,” Kenny agreed, veins seeming to cool with an emotion he didn’t really have a name for. “Uh…” 

He wasn’t sure where this was going. He kinda like this, but it was terrifing and he might be getting the wrong idea. 

Kyle turned off the stove, straightening with a fire in his eyes. 

“I want to show you something,” He said, just as a text message blinged on Kenny’s phone. The blond clicked it to silent without looking, eyes trained on the kid. He didn’t have time for-

-Butters, clearly, no one ever had time for him. He was going to panic. And Professor Chaos did not panic. 

He enhanced the children’s learning with a healthy respect for anarchy and the understanding of beauty in a life without pattern. ‘We are the Fam in infamy’ and all. He frightened people and uprooted boring, everyday life. He didn’t panic. 

He was panicking. 

He had to say something today. Clyde was awful sweet when meeting Marjorine, all star struck and stuff like he expected, but he hadn’t let her take Butters’ bookbag. He seemed to think he was sweet. 

He had to _something,_ here. He had to say something and Kenny wasn’t answering! He gave him all kinds of advice for him and Kyle, he should return the favor when he needed help!

Chaos smacked his head backwards against the underside of the desk for computer use in the library. He had fifteen minutes before he was back reading to the kiddos, his little ‘minions’, they needed to be read to and cared for and he didn’t have much time. 

Aw, but it was so much easier to be Chaos! Plus, Clyde had been watching him all today and it was so cute. It had to be now. Now. 

Once he started moving. 

One, two, three. 

Butters covered his face. 

“I don’t know!” Clyde’s voice raised after something was said to him by Craig’s lower, softer monotone. “You think I should?” 

Something else was said, and Chaos shifted, kneeing himself in the mouth in his eagerness to press his ear against the wood of the desk’s backing. 

“No,” Clyde said, and stopped. Butters held his breath. “He’s kind of an asshole sometimes, you know?”

Uhh. The blond straightened, banging his head against the bottom of the desk. Ouch.

“Yeah, but I’m _into_ that, dude!” Clyde’s voice carried easily in the quiet library. 

Alright, who was he talking about? Butters slowly peered over the top of the desk, still crouched mostly under it, seeing the two main librarians chattering behind their desk. 

Clyde always dressed so cute. His shirts always said something so marvelously dumb, he loved it. He couldn’t read it from here, even though he squinted. 

Craig was rubbing his face, saying something else. Clyde pursed his lips. 

“That’s your own fault,” He said, slumping backwards onto the desk. “He’s crazy about you, Craig. I know he is.” 

Wait, were they talking about the same person now or something different? Chaos rested his chin on his hands as he stared over at them. 

“Everyone knows! And he’s tiny and cute and scary and sooo into you,” Clyde was teasing now and Butters needed to know more about what was going on. He wasn’t going to sit by and do nothing and be sad forever. 

“Jeez,” He said, and only then realized there was someone two computers down browsing the internet. 

The college aged girl stared at this soft-edged, tall boy in a cape and metal headpiece crouched behind a desk creeping on the main librarians. He blinked, standing on his own cape as he righted himself. 

“I’m working on something important,” He explained, and quickly left the area. 

Very, very important. This was going to be very _crucial_.

What he wouldn’t give for moral support from Dougie or Kenny right now. Both had better things to do, of course. So. He was on his own. 

Professor Chaos was not a coward. 

He walked right on up to the desk and set his palms on the wood, startling both boys what looked to be pretty badly. 

Clyde had an avocado on his shirt, with a smileyface, and he was adorable. 

“Donovan,” He said impressively, sliding his hands over to lean almost all the way against the desk. “A word.” Nice. Impressive. Super-villainy. 

“Sure!” Clyde leaned against the desk, too, chin in his hands and elbows next to his hands until their faces were inches apart as he grinned. “What can I do for you, Professor?”

Anyone else, he’d suspect something sexual. At least flirtatious, something to make him slightly out of his depth. Clearly, he and Kenny had been palling around too much. 

He should just ignore that, stick to the plan. 

“Wanted your thoughts on something,” The villain said, spotting the bookbag again. Oh. 

Shit. 

His pamphlets were still in there, that was the whole reason Marjorine had showed up, how had he forgotten that already? 

“Yeah?” Clyde tried to follow his line of sight, Craig watching quietly in the back without interfering. 

Genius struck him, suddenly. Clyde liked and trusted Chaos. 

“Can I return that to your friend?” He pointed, nearly punching the kid in the ear by accident, beaming brilliantly in what was hopefully a trustworthy and kindhearted way. 

Clyde’s friend was slowly shaking his head in a way he couldn’t quite understand. No what? He cocked his head, and Craig pointed to his own head, shaking his head again. 

Chaos touched his metal headpiece, still not understanding. 

“Oh, that’s totally sweet of you, actually,” Clyde pushed himself back off the desk, looking over his shoulder at the bag. “But I kinda want to talk to him myself.” 

Craig went to sit back behind the computer, looking satisfied. Butters had no idea what was happening. 

“…Yeah?” What.

“Yeah, I’m working on that. Got to get an excuse to talk to him.” Clyde grinned, waving his fingers. “Done being a coward about it.” 

Butters looked at Craig for confirmation. His heart was somewhere in his throat. The dark-haired boy caught his eye and rolled his, but nodded once. 

Holy shit. 

“Oh my god.” 

Wait. 

So like…this was a real thing. Was he saying…he wanted to talk to him? To Butters? Being a coward…

“You have a boyfriend?” He blurted, hands covering his lips. 

“Well not yet,” Clyde was now looking alarmed. “Gotta talk to him first. Use some charm. Uh…” He winced, slightly, crossing his arms over his tshirt. “Are you…um…” 

“Gotta go _read_ ,” Butters said, elation coloring his voice. Oh my god. 

He had a crush on him. Like, actual him. 

Real, actual him, a tired, bitter boy with a saccharine smile. Not a pretty, sweet girl, or the powerful, charming villain. 

He had to plan for this. He had to do something nice. He had to go. 

He fled back to the children’s corner, grin stretching from ear to ear, bumping the arm of a new patron, who-

-Nearly making him drop the hot cup. Tweek was willing to dump the scalding liquid down him damn shirt if he made him spill any of it. 

He sent the oblivious moron a glare, walking past a beaming, happy Clyde who watched as he set the cup on the librarian’s desk, staring at Craig. 

The librarian made no move to get up, so Tweek swung the counter door open and stepped through, seeing Craig straighten. 

“Employees only,” He said, in that monotone, every inch of his body startled. 

“You have permission to visit, Tweek,” Clyde said, escaping the area by skittering past the blond with an armful of books. “I’ll just take care of theeese…” He drew out the last word, leaving the two behind to watch one another. 

Tweek picked up the cup, setting in directly in front of the boy. 

“It’s tea,” He said, hiding the twitch in his hands behind his back. “With honey. Some lavender.” 

“Lavender?” Craig’s brows furrowed slightly. The flower?” 

“Just drink it, Craig.” Tweek spent enough years making hot drinks to know what went with what. “It’s for you.” 

The boy hadn’t looked away from him since he walked inside the library. He looked down now, picking up the cup almost delicately, one hand under the drink as he took a careful sip. 

Tweek leaned against the desk, feeling warmth flood his chest as Craig’s cheeks colored, clearly flustered by the scrutiny. 

“It’s good,” The boy said, quietly, losing some of the stiffness in his posture. 

“Good,” Tweek said, relieved. He wasn’t sure if he’d even accept it at first. This was a good start. “You look better.” 

“Being sick sucks,” Craig admitted, taking another sip of his tea. 

“Yeah.” Tweek tried to block out memories of vomiting constantly, becoming sickeningly thin, twitchy and paranoid and being fucked up every waking moment of the day. He hated being sick, or seeing other people be sick, but instead of fear or flashbacks or any kind of recoil, he’d seen Craig upset and heard he was ill and had felt…

Scared. Worried. Protective. 

“Craig.” Tweek’s scratchy, off-putting voice was soft. “I want to ask you something, alright? And you can say yes or no.” 

Craig slowly set the cup down, maintaining eye contact, and the shorter boy was determined. 

“Would you let me draw you?” Tweek asked, simply.

Whatever Craig had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. His brows furrowed, picking up the cup again. “What? Why?”

“I want you to model for me,” Tweek reiterated, leaning forward with the small of his back still braced against the counter. “You have…” He was going off script. “I would really like to draw you, I need a model for expressions and you’re perfect. Would you be okay with that?” 

Craig didn’t say anything at first, taking another long sip of his tea as he seemed to think. 

“I can pay you,” Tweek began, and was swiftly interrupted. 

“You don’t need to do that,” Craig spoke quickly. He was watching Tweek intently now, almost entirely still, except for the brush of his thumb over the cup’s side. “If you need a model, I can help.” 

That wasn’t what he meant. Tweek inhaled, exhaling for a full five seconds, like his therapist advised. “I specifically want you to model, Craig. For a facial portrait. If you’re comfortable with that.” 

He was quiet for a second, and Tweek gave him a moment to think. He wasn’t going to pressure him. 

Craig had a serious hesitation about being friendly with him, lately. He wasn’t going to force him into discomfort without his permission. That wasn’t right and he wasn’t going to do that when he knew what it felt like.

“Yeah.” Craig said finally. “That would be fine.” 

Good. Tweek smiled, receiving a begrudging smile in return. Craig leaned back against his chair, relaxing at last. 

He didn’t really have anything else to say, but Craig was smiling and looked comfortable and that was nice. That anxious fog between them was easing at last. 

“You look better,” He said again, softly. 

“Yes.” Craig’s voice gentled as well, hands around his drink. “Thanks.” 

Tweek felt entirely at ease. He reached over to straighten a book on the desk, reveling in the comfortable air. More like how it used to be, before the gossip tore them apart. Back when he was Tricia’s eccentric, jumpy teacher and Craig was Tricia’s sweet, stoic older brother. 

He looked up to meet his eyes again, the nerdy little doofus, still as sweet and the stoic a front. The universe in greyish, greenish-


	5. The Conclusion for the Stupid One

Calm color palette, which was what Kyle wanted when he first painted the study. Something relaxing and not too bright, perfect for working or writing without distractions. 

Kenny wasn’t asking any questions, following Kyle into the room without even a word. Kyle glanced back to see him looking around, taking in the wooden bookshelves and desk, filtered lighting, the couch Kyle bought from Ikea last month to appease Stan’s complaining about comfortable places to watch the redhead have a mental breakdown. 

Kyle chewed his lower lip. He picked the object off his desk, turning it around before pointing towards the couch. 

“Sit,” Kyle demanded, firmly, seeing Kenny crack a grin but obediently sit himself down. 

He took a breath, pressing his lips together firmly and walking over to stand in front of Kenny. He met his eyes, holding his gaze. This was his one chance to take it back, but he’d lied to Kenny for long enough and he was tired of feeling sick any time Kenny brought up his writing. 

They were friends, and beginning to rekindle that friendship, and Kyle wasn’t going to try and change the relationship with any lies between them. 

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” Kyle began stiffly, watching Kenny’s eyebrows raise. Goddamn it. He had a whole thing planned but he couldn’t make the words leave his mouth. 

He held the book out and watched as Kenny took it, clearly puzzled but intrigued, not looking away as confusion spread over the blond’s face. 

“It’s already shipped out to bookstores,” Kyle crossed his arms to keep his hands from shaking. “But they won’t be sold for another two weeks. Which…which I’m sure you know, of course-”

“This is my book.” Kenny spoke slowly, eyes fixed on the pale green and golden cover. He thumbed through the pages of the crisp, unread novel, running his fingers over the spine as he flipped it over to read the back. “Holy… Kyle, where did-”

“I write them,” Kyle confessed, and that was the dam that finally burst. Years of omission and lying and guilt and longing finally crumbled and Kyle moved to kneel in front of Kenny on the couch, speaking in earnest. 

“I never meant for you to read these,” Kyle began fumbling over his apology and explanation, “I never actually intended for anyone to read these, to be honest, I started this years ago and it just _spiraled_.”

“You wrote these,” Kenny seemed to be trying to keep up, staring down at the book in his hands. 

“I wrote these,” Kyle said, and he had to hurry and explain this better before he began to get really angry at him, which would be earned but he wanted to set things right immediately. “I write these. I meant for it to be a standalone but it kept fucking going-”

“You’re an author?” Kenny was looking flabbergasted, skimming his fingers over the book cover. “Are you making a living from this, Kyle, that’s incredible!” 

Kyle stumbled in his explanation, coming to a stop, as a grin split over Kenny’s face. “What?”

“Stan’s such a wonderful, dickish friend,” Kenny began laughing, covering his face. “He suggested I read the thing to begin with.”

Oh? Kyle went from kneeling to flopping down on the floor to sit, making a mental note to murder his friend later. All this time he’d been the one to lead Kenny to these stories. 

“Why didn’t you just fucking tell me, you moron?” Kenny laughed, looking oddly relieved. He began babbling himself, leaning forward on the couch. “You write- how did you start this? How many are you making?” When Kyle didn’t respond he attempted to nudgle him with his food and grinned all the wider. “Oh my god. Oh god, tell me we get to see some raunchy King and Princess scene, c’mon, that unresolved sexual tension is ba-ad between them.” 

Kyle ripped the book from his hands, dropping it on the floor and covering his face. “Shut up for one second, Kenny. Let me think.” 

He heard the boy snort. One last chance. Take it all back. He seemed oddly fine with it, he should take what he could and leave it alone. 

“Kenny,” Kyle said, measured and careful, “What are the names of the two main characters?”

There was a moment of quiet. “See-naid and Kai,” Kenny responded, voice softening. Kyle didn’t respond immediately. “Kyle?” 

“Cináed is pronounced the same as Kenny,” Kyle let the secret out, at last. “You began calling me Ky around middle school.”

Kenny wasn’t saying anything. Kyle looked up, seeing the boy staring at him with an odd, analytical gaze. They kept the gaze, the author holding onto the book so tightly his knuckles were white. 

He had to forget the idea of a flowery speech, or some kind of romantic explanation. Kyle simply laid himself bare, giving him every bit of the truth. 

“I started this because I had no idea how to deal with myself,” Kyle gently handed the book back. “And I continued because you liked them.” 

Kenny didn’t take the book, so Kyle set it on the couch next to him. He made himself look Kenny in the eyes, jaw set. 

The boy’s expression was raw, beautiful emotion. Curiosity, disbelief, caution on a handsome face. He was listening intently, not interrupting. So Kyle continued. 

“These are for you,” Kyle told him, pushing the book closer to him. “These were always for you. This was my outlet, it was how I dealt with myself, and how I viewed you, because I told myself I was never going to fuck things up by telling you.” 

“Telling me.” Kenny repeated, not even blinking. 

“Cináed is you, Ken,” His palms were sweating. 

The boy cocked his head, and Kyle’s heart jumped at the thoughtful, careful look on his face. God. He didn’t know if he was doing the right thing right now. 

“You changed the gender,” The blond said, almost carefully. “Are you…did you not want to make the love interest a male-”

Oh, fuck. 

“No!” Kyle cleared that up immediately, straightening. “I’m…I’m definitely into guys. I didn’t want you to ever read this and know that it _was_ you!”

“Why?!” Kenny asked, leaning forward on his knees. “Why not?” 

“I didn’t want to fuck up being friends,” Kyle groaned. “I told myself I wasn’t ever, ever going to tell you and I didn’t want even the slightest chance you would figure it out.”

He was nothing but a coward, a sad, tired, lost coward and back then the worst thing to ever happen would have been for Kenny to find out. And now Kyle was spilling everything, without a real plan, without an idea of how it could be taken. 

The clock in his study ticked onward. 

“Tell me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a gentle demand. 

Kyle looked up, seeing a soft, almost teasing grin on Kenny’s face. His blue eyes were fond, smile slightly crooked, a soft color in his cheeks. 

His chest expanded with the force of the breath he took. 

“My feelings towards you changed,” He confessed, spilling words he’d thought about for years, wrote on various papers, typed on various devices, murmured to himself in the car, the shower, the dead of night. “I wrote how I felt about you and how I saw you. How…how I feel about you and still see you. Today.” 

Kenny was smiling, propping his chin up with his elbows on his knees. Waiting. Not looking the least bit upset. 

Stan was right. Kyle was an idiot. 

The boy closed his eyes briefly, snorting. He opened his eyes, letting the fear go. Watching. 

“I love you, Kenny,” Kyle told the kid he’d known practically his whole life, with a new sense of confidence. “These books are for you. About you.” Kenny’s expression was so, painfully soft. “From me.” 

The next instant he had a lapful of tall, dashing blond, chapped lips hot against his own mouth, hands burying themselves in his hair. 

The sound he made was embarrassing, the relief that coursed through him felt like weights falling from his shoulders. Kenny kissed him, Kyle wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing him up against him, and it was okay. It was fine. 

“I thought you’d be angry at me,” Kyle murmured against his lips, feeling Kenny kiss along his jawline and laugh. 

“You wrote _books_ about me, well-known, well-written books, trying to figure out how to tell me your little gay ass was pining,” Kenny moved back enough for Kyle to see the utter delight in his expression, the amusement twinkling in his eyes. “I’m not fucking mad, you’re just fucking stupid.”

Kyle laughed. Kenny kissed at his lips and Kyle pushed him over, smiling, brushing back blond bangs as Kenny’s hands skimmed over his back. 

His eyes were so warm, overjoyed, fingers tracing his spine in almost reverence. Kyle wanted to ask more, question how much Kenny knew, when he’d found he liked Kyle as well, but Kenny yanked him down and Kyle found himself letting go of his crowded thoughts, focusing on sun-spun locks and blue, blue-

Eyes, pale and bright, wearing a grey sweater and cuffed jeans, hair carefully styled. Like he’d taken care with his appearance today. 

That wasn’t too crazy on it’s own, Clyde thought to himself, the oddest part was the guy was just laden with flowers. 

Daisies, Clyde realized blankly, watching a few limp ones fall to the ground from the armful he carried. He watched them hit the carpet and sit there, sadly, cheery white and yellow against old blue carpet from the 1980’s. 

Butters walked right up to the desk where the boy sat, staring, and the loose flowers were plopped onto the counter, drooping but smelling fresh and sweet. There were enough of them to nearly overflow the countertop, some spilling over the edge onto Clyde’s shoes. 

Clyde’s mind was trying to reboot itself. 

Villains and pretty girls vanished from his mind as he stared at the soft-eyed, round-faced boy with a dumb haircut and terrible social skills. A lot of bitterness and upset under saccharine sugar, but a genuine kindness and a refusal to let people keep him down. 

He was just so interesting, so sweet, so damn _cute_ and sure sometimes he was an ass but Clyde was too, and Craig was, and Tweek was, and Kenny was, everyone was an asshole so no one could ever gripe about that. 

He was so cute. So cute. Armfuls of daisies, dude, he was literally the cutest thing to ever exist in the world. 

So what did Clyde say, with his heart pounding in his chest and ears?

“You left your- your bookbag,” He stammered, unable to look away from pretty, crystal-blue eyes. “Here. Did you want it back?”

Butters stared at him, baggy sweater showing off a soft shoulder and slight line of a collarbone. Pieces of greens and petals still stuck to the fabric, and his lips were parted slightly. 

Butters took a long, deep breath, fists clutched at his sides, and straightened. 

“Nope,” He said strongly, and turned around with a red face to march away. 

Wait, now hold on. Clyde stared as he began walking away, realizing he fucked this up somehow. Like, majorly. He was getting the wrong idea. 

“Hey! Hold on!” Clyde fumbled with the gate in the desk, giving up and hopping onto the counter instead, swinging his legs over the side and sending daisies raining to the floor. They clung to his jeans as he ran towards the boy, throwing his arms around the taller man as he turned. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” He demanded, looking up at the boy frantically, having to lift his chin with their proximity. “You left your _bookbag,_ ” He tried again, trying to fix what he apparently fucked up the first time. “I waited _forever_ for you to come back, and you come back with _flowers!_ ”

No one had ever given him flowers. No one ever gave him anything cute like that, he was always the one chasing, not ever the one- no one ever thought to chase _him_ , that he might like to be _wanted_. He thought he would like flowers, he gave him flowers, he was so sweet. 

“You’re so sweet!” Clyde said honestly, breathlessly, squeezing him around the middle. “You brought me flowers!” 

The white terror on the boy’s face melted, and he had his hands floating in the air, not touching him yet. 

“Uh huh,” The boy seemed speechless, nervous, and Clyde really should let go of him but now it was _his turn_.

“Thank you,” He said, a flood of emotion bubbling in his chest. “I love them. So much.” 

He could feel Butters shiver, but the boy rested his arms around his shoulder with a soft smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes. 

“You’re welcome,” He said, quietly, glowing, and Clyde all but leaned against him. 

“Will you let me take you on a date?” The brunet asked with confidence, like the smooth motherfucker he was on the inside. “Lunch, dinner, whatever you want.” 

Butters laughed, almost disbelievingly. “Sure?” 

“Wonderful,” Clyde said dizzyingly, beaming. This had to be the right decision. A date! A date with the blond and they could talk for real, learn about each other, be disgustingly gooey and talk about dumb shit and be happy. 

It was all he ever wanted. 

“I get off work in two hours,” His heart was soaring. “Dinner?” 

“ _Yes._ ” Butters was smiling brightly, nearly melting into the hug. “Where?”

“You pick,” Clyde said, toes of his sneakers pressed against the library carpet as he leaned up. “My treat. For the flowers.”

And with that, he kissed his cheek like a smooth bastard and let him go, grinning from ear to ear. A path of daisies trailed from where they stood to the desk he went back to. 

Butters followed, reaching for the bookbag Clyde quickly offered him. 

“Want some company ‘till you’re off?” He asked, voice sweet, and Clyde nodded wildly. 

He would have dressed up if he knew he was going on a date, but he didn’t mind so much. Butters didn’t look like he minded, anyway, leaning across the desk on the flowers and nearly sighing.

Clyde picked up one of the daisies, twirling it in his fingers. He’d never gotten flowers before. 

Butters reached his hand over, offering, and Clyde took it. The two stood there like two children, sweaty hands, awkward smiles, armfuls of quickly-wilting flowers scattered around a library. It was mismatched-

Striking, the way his eyes were. Craig had noticed that from the beginning, the half brown, half blue iris in a very striking face. 

Tweek was gaunt, almost, a masculine jaw and sallow skin. He wouldn’t quite call him handsome. Definitely cute, certainly intriguing, but nothing really ever described what he looked like. Craig didn’t know what to call it. He just knew he liked looking at him. 

Which was good, because modeling meant being very still. He expected that. He just didn’t know he’d be sitting this close. 

Tweek wanted a portrait. So he sat at his desk and had Craig sit just on the other side, holding still and looking at him straight on. 

He kept making faces. The dark-haired boy didn’t know what that meant, but he saw him erase every two seconds, it felt like. 

Tweek chewed at his lower lip, pausing to take a drink of tea. Craig’s own cup sat on the other side of the desk, untouched. The boy hadn’t moved since he’d sat down. 

He certainly wasn’t bored. It was enchanting to watch the boy this closely. Tweek was relaxed when he drew, his worried, furrowed gaze gone. He looked calm, confident, hands steady and motions smooth. 

“Try looking to your left, just a little,” The blond told him without looking up. “More. There.” 

Another long, curved line made in one quick swipe, following by several small motions. He brushed his pinky finger over the paper, blowing bits of eraser away, continuing to work. 

Craig took another brief look around the room, focused on the many points of light set around to get the lighting right for the artist, since they were busy doing this at night. It was pitch black outside, and the tree outside the third-story room tapped lightly against the window. 

He didn’t know why Tweek wanted to do this in his classroom for certain, but he was starting to get it. It was strangely relaxing here. It felt so removed from anything. 

“Are you thirsty?” Tweek asked, without looking up, regaining Craig’s attention. “You can take a drink, you know. Your tea is cold by now.” 

“I’m not.” His voice came out quieter than normal. He felt oddly reserved, out of his element. Not altogether uncomfortable, but Tweek was in charge here and Craig was still drifting in an air of uncertainty. 

“Do you want to take a break?” The blond asked, finally looking up at him, and Craig merely shrugged. 

Tweek set his pencil down and stretched, leaning back in his chair and pulling his legs up to sit in a crisscross position. 

Well. Guess that was his answer. Craig picked up his cup and took a sip of tea, which yes, was cold. He took another drink anyhow. 

The two were quiet. Craig couldn’t keep his eyes off Tweek for long, drawn to the difference in the boy at night. Relaxed, with an almost elegant air, almost…otherworldly. The boy with the hanging fairy lights reflected in his beautiful mismatched eyes and a soft twitch to his lips and brows. 

He swallowed, forcing himself to stand and take a quick walk around the room. His heart was pounding in his chest. 

He walked around the easels the students set up, a quiet smile curving his lips at Ruby’s work. She liked the broad, impressionist work. Wasn’t surprising that she imitated it. Or that it looked like a kitten against a rainy window. 

“Your sister is really good,” Tweek said, from over at his desk. “But why does she sign everything as ‘Tricia’?”

“She’s named after our great aunt, Patricia.” Craig replied, looking at a similar style of work signed by a ‘Karen.’ “We’ve always called her by her middle name. Ruby.”

This painting was two people walking down a rainy street, hand in hand, with long coats and hoods. Very well done, he scratched his cheek as he looked it over. 

“Are you…” Tweek trailed off, but seemingly steeled himself. “You’re half-siblings, she said.”

“Yep.” When had she told that to her art teacher? And why was Tweek bringing that up? That was needlessly nosy. “But I was raised by Thomas, he’s my dad. No one else matters.” 

“That’s good.” 

Craig looked over at Tweek, who was staring down at his cup. The young man looked up at him, wild eyes determined. 

“Craig,” The kid said firmly, setting the cup down with shaky hands. “I don’t want to make things bad for you.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” This conversation was giving him mental whiplash. 

Tweek dropped his hands into his lap. “Ruby said something about your father one day-”

Craig froze up, shrugging, something inside him crawling into the darkest part of his heart to die. Oh god, please. Don’t. 

“That just made me think…something about him made you stop…” Tweek tilted his head. 

They used to talk to one another. Tweek seemed to like him. Craig liked talking to him, listening, spending time with the strange, talented, wild kid. 

“Craig,” Tweek’s voice was impossibly, horribly gentle. “I don’t want you to have family issues because we might...”

The kid twitched, violently, the motion jerking his whole body. The boy closed his eyes, clearly struggling to fight it off. Craig was still frozen, silent and stone faced. 

“I could have asked to photograph you for this,” The art teacher said, after steeling himself. “But I didn’t. Because I wanted you here.” He let that sit there for a moment, let Craig think about it. “But I don’t want you to have problems with your family because of who you like. I’m not going to do that to you.” 

The silence rang in Craig’s ears. His body felt chilled. 

“I don’t care about that,” He tried to push that off, push it away, and Tweek scowled. 

“I made the decision to stop talking to my parents, because they didn’t support me,” He sneered, face turning ugly for a moment, “And I think about it every single fucking day. It bothers me. That would bother you.”

Craig inhaled. “Your parents were upset that you were-”

“No,” Tweek scoffed, lips twisting into something bitter. “My parents were who got me hooked on meth.” 

His heart jumped. Tweek never admitted to the rumors of him being an addict. Craig believed it but had never brought it up himself. Wasn’t any of his damn business. 

“I’m amazed I’m…not as fucked up as I could be.” Tweek held out a hand, fingers twitching wildly, wrist shaking. “But they knew what they were doing to me. So I ran away when I was fifteen. I don’t have a high school degree, just as associate’s, bach, and a teaching certification.”

“You’re clean, though,” Craig was transfixed. 

“Yeah. Now.” Tweek pressed his lips into a tight smile. “After years of rehab. Relapses. Doctors refusing to give me any medication for any medical reason that I might get addicted to. But I’m clean, and no thanks to them.” He looked up, a tic in his cheek but honest and quiet look in his eyes. “But I think about it every single day. It bothers me. So don’t give me any fucking bullshit, Craig. It’s just us, here.”

Craig said nothing. 

“You helped me a lot when we met,” The student finally spoke when Craig didn’t want to say anything more. “I’d like to help you right now. I’m not going to push you into anything. You tell me what you want. And that’s what we’ll do.” 

Craig looked up, meeting the boy’s eyes. The ferocious, stubborn man looked understanding, leaning over the table to look at him. 

Craig slowly walked over the few steps to sit, carefully, back in his chair. Tweek never looked away from him. The frustration from the other had seemingly evaporated, replaced by something quiet and sweet, something that made it difficult to feel angry that Ruby let something slip. 

“How’s-” He gestured flippantly at the sketchbook, which Tweek flipped around to show him. 

It was incredible, honestly. Tweek drew in long swoops and short scratches, creating something realistic and otherworldly at the same time. Craig’s gaze was lowered, from him looking at something in the distance, thick eyelashes, tall cheekbones, moles on his face. Acne scars. He drew every flaw and imperfection, mixed with something strange Craig was sure he’d never seen in the mirror before. 

It genuinely looked like him, awkwardness and all, and Craig wasn’t sure why he was so glad about that. 

He supposed if Tweek had drawn him handsome, he would have been very put-off.

This was uncomfortable anyhow. This was a weird conversation. And Ruby just let that…what had she said? Craig swallowed. 

“He grew up in a home that was…” He shrugged. “It was a good thing my dad wasn’t gay.” 

The word felt weird in his mouth, but Tweek didn’t even blink. He just nodded, twitchily, almost expectantly. 

He didn’t say anything about the portrait, the fucking moron. 

“It looks good,” Craig said quickly, awkwardly, and Tweek snorted. 

“It’s fine, Craig,” The boy rolled his mismatched eyes and said nothing more to elaborate. 

It was fine. Tweek was letting him do this on his terms. He clearly knew Craig… he admitted that he liked Craig, but that he wasn’t going to do a damn thing unless Craig wanted him to. He wasn’t going to cause him any problems. He thought about him and his family relationships… clearly knowing how hard it was to have his own shattered. 

Craig looked back up at the boy, with eyes like a supernova and a personality to match. 

He reached for his hand quickly, wrapping it in his own, tightly. Tweek jumped, but he let him, bewildered, and Craig swallowed. 

“Let me,” He asked, slowly, staring into those eyes, “Let me…” He was beautiful, fierce, protective, but startlingly thoughtful of him. “I don’t want to be selfish-”

Tweek snorted. “No one’s more selfish than I am,” The boy said. “What do you want?” 

“Some…time, I guess,” Craig felt weird, but he was holding Tweek’s hand and the other seemed to understand and somehow it was _okay_ \- “Just…let me…”

“That’s fine, Craig,” Tweek’s fingers twitched slightly but he squeezed his hand warmly, expression confident. “It’s fine.” 

It was fine. 

Craig exhaled, slowly, catching a glimpse of their reflection in the dark window. Holding hands, next to one another, easily, naturally. Craig felt his shoulders slowly relax, staring outside to the-


	6. It Ends with a Kiss

Football field was an odd place to have a graduation, but it was nice out and Kenny wasn’t complaining. The graduates hadn’t walked out of the school yet, it was early, good fucking day. Today was good. Today was great. 

“My life is perfect,” Kenny told Stan seriously, straight-faced. 

The black-haired boy pressed his lips together and shook his head, but Kenny saw that hint of a smile. It was enough. He slung his arm over the boy’s shoulders, squeezing him with all the genuine affection in his heart as he teased. 

“I’m so glad you suggested I read more,” Kenny glowed, trying to half-strangle the boy in his hug. “My work doesn’t get me down as much. I’m eating better. My days are full of meaning. My bed is no longer cold.” 

“I’m _so_ glad,” Stan was trying to be unaffected but simply couldn’t, squirming out of his grip passively. “You don’t have to tell me anymore.” 

“Nah, dude, I owe you like, a lifetime of thanks,” Kenny let him go, watching a lovely redhead make his way over to them. “I do.” 

Stan paused, seemingly waiting for the punchline, but Kenny’s eyes stayed on Kyle, who was stuffing his hands in his pockets to warm them. Wuss. It wasn’t even cold out. 

“I’m glad, Kenny,” Stan said again, and this one sounded genuine. 

Kenny beamed over at the boy, golden hair fluttering over his eyes in the May breeze. “You’re next.” 

Now the kid just looked alarmed, head jerking up from where he was pulling his black gloves from his coat. “What?”

“You’re next, Kyle agrees, you need to get a date,” Kenny waggled his eyebrows. “If you’re alone, I know a couple cuties at work, gotta just tell me your type, you deserve to be happy-”

“I’m happy, I’m happy, I’m so fucking happy,” Stan was stammering as Kyle finally walked up, bumping shoulders with Kenny without looking at him. 

“Why?” The boy demanded, eyes sharp and bright green. Beautiful. 

“I was telling Stanny-boy that he needs a hot piece of ass at his side,” Kenny confided kindly. “Being all alone like he is, and everything.” He was promptly elbowed in the ribs. 

“Leave him alone,” Kyle rolled his eyes. “He’ll let us meet them sooner or later.” 

The boy squawked. “I think both of you need to mind your own business,” Stan demanded, jabbing a finger towards them both. “There’s nobody-” 

“Bet,” Kenny began, as the same time Kyle said “Oh, fucking please-”

“This doesn’t sound very grateful!” Stan sputtered. 

“I am,” Kenny said honestly, “So fucking grateful.” He’d grab Kyle’s ass to punctuate that if this wasn’t a grand occasion he really didn’t want to get thrown out of. Otherwise it would be worth being killed by Kyle to see Stan’s horror. 

Perhaps he sensed this, because the brunet made a face as Kyle shook his head. 

“Or we’ll find you a puppy,” Kenny said cheerfully. 

An exasperated smile broke out over Stan’s face. 

Kyle suddenly grasped Kenny’s arm, turning him to look at him. “Dude, I forgot, I was talking to-” He stopped, brows furrowing at Stan. “Where are you going?” 

“To sit,” The boy threw over his shoulder as he began trotting up the bandstands. “My ass is freezing out here.” 

Kyle paused for a whole three seconds before speaking, almost like a confused child. “You don’t have to leave, moron.” 

Kenny watched Kyle quietly, pasted grin fading to something soft. 

He didn’t really get it yet, that the dynamic between them all _had_ changed. No longer were they Kyle and Stan and Kenny, but Stan and Kyle-and-Kenny. They weren’t just three pals anymore. 

So Stan was kinda feeling awkward around the two whenever they got serious or sweet around each other. More reason to why Kenny was really hoping whoever Stan had his eye on either paid him attention or moved on so Kenny could introduce him to people. Watching Stan watch them with a wistfulness made him sad. 

Maybe he’d get him a puppy after all. 

Not that he was ungrateful, or would trade in anything, Kenny’s smile returned with a fluttery warmth as Kyle’s eyes met his, greenish-brown and alight with something excitable. 

“So I’ve sent a pitch for my next series to my publisher-” Kyle began, and Kenny smashed his mouth against his with no finesse whatsoever. 

And Kyle just let him. Curled a hand around his lower back and kissed him, in plain view on a busy Saturday at the university. Open mouth kissed him like he was just as weak for him. 

Kenny kissed his lower lip, softly, peering through his eyelashes. “Sorry. Fanboy moment.” 

Kyle’s face turned scarlet. Kenny’s smile turned to a grin, reaching up to touch a heated cheek. He got so flustered over that, the fact that he wrote what Kenny ended up loving, so Kenny made sure he told him how fucking cool he was at any given point. 

He’d never gotten Kyle to stammer before until he began that. It was awesome. 

As it was right now, Kyle seemed to struggle to get his words back in order. 

“I was…” The redhead had his hand pressed against Kenny’s chest, as if he was thinking about pushing him off. “It’s a darker series. Forest horror, netherworld creatures.” 

“Romance?” Kenny asked, feeling Kyle’s thumb brush against the string of his hoodie. 

“Yes,” The boy agreed, almost embarrassed. “But it’s…a bit more visual-reliant than the Princess series.” 

“Nothing you can’t handle,” Kenny told him confidently. His descriptions were gorgeous, after all, as long as he kept from being too wordy. “How’s the ending going, anyway?” 

Kyle opened his mouth and closed it. And opened it again. And closed it. The wind whipped past them, creating a chill, and they were both absolutely silent. 

“Yeah?” Kenny tried not to laugh. 

“I’m working on it,” He admitted. “Honestly, it’s- I once planned on killing the King off, trying to end it properly wasn’t ever part of my original plan.” 

Kenny’s heart jumped in his chest. 

“Don’t. Don’t do that,” He said, pulse thudding in his ears. 

“I’m not Kai, Kenny,” The author corrected him, finally taking his hand away. He straightened, though his firm look softened somewhat. “I don’t know how else to end it.” 

The blond looked him over, carefully. It still prickled at him, given who he was and what he lived with. The thought of Kyle, any Kyle in any form, dying made him very uncomfortable. 

Plus, he liked that character far better than the Princess. How he hadn’t seen Kyle in the King, he didn’t know, but honestly he didn’t think he was much like the Princess. 

But Kyle never seemed disappointed in what he got. 

Kenny looked out over the field, taking a slow breath. He cupped Kyle’s face, leaning in close enough to brush noses. 

“End it however makes you happy,” He said, warmly, feeling Kyle melt against him. “But I still say a sex scene between Cináed and the hot little Elf King is always an option.” 

“You’re an ass,” Kyle pushed him away, sending Kenny laughing back only a step. “But stop changing the subject. So I got the interest from my publisher-”

“Mmmnn.” Kenny giggled at the look he got. “Sorry.” 

“I genuinely think I need more visuals in this,” Kyle continued, brows furrowed. When Kenny didn’t add anything else, his tone softened. “Would you be willing to illustrate parts of it?” 

Kenny’s brain stuttered. 

Then he whooped, reaching around his incredible, talented, sweet, and gorgeous boyfriend and hugging him tightly to his chest. 

“I love you,” Kenny was laughing, almost giddily. “Oh my god, dude, I love you so fucking much.” 

“You’re getting paid for this, it’s not a favor!” Kyle protested between laughter, clutching at Kenny as he tried to spin them around. 

“God, I love you,” Kenny’s heart might just overflow today. His life genuinely was so, so good right now. So good. “ _Kyle_.”

The redhead’s smile just about split his face. He reached up and kissed him. Arms around him, still standing in plain view of the entire graduating class and families probably, mackin’ on Kenny like he was incredibly in love. 

Kenny drew back, just a second, just to breathe, meeting sparkling, fiery eyes. He was incredibly in love. He brushed back in-

Really close, so quickly that Butters didn’t even realize it was Clyde at first. He squeaked, jumping so abruptly he shouldered the kid in the nose as a greeting. 

“Oh, gosh, _sorry_ -” The blond’s hands fluttered helplessly as the brunet covered his face and backed up a step, looking guilty. 

“Sorry, shit-” He was apologizing at the same time, both beginning to redden. 

He was wearing a varsity-style jacket, red and white, with a hat pulled over his ears. He was a cutie pie and Butter’s stomach was crawling. 

“It’s okay,” The blond started to stand from his seat behind the cheap fold-up table, but Clyde plopped down in the empty chair next to him instead, hands folded in his lap. 

He chewed on his lower lip, butterflies fluttering around his stomach. “I didn’t know you were still coming,” He said stupidly. 

Clyde met his eyes for the first time, dark greyish blue filled with uncertainty, but the boy lifted his chin regardless. “Course I was.” 

Oh god. Something else was coming. He was frozen. 

“I mean, last night was…weird,” The boy tugged at his own sleeves as people passed around them, sometimes taking programs and usually ignoring them for better seats on the bandstands. “It was…it wasn’t _bad_ , I mean, don’t think that-”

“Right,” Butters said helplessly, heart stuck in his throat. His face felt numb and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was cold or terrified. “Does that mean…uhm…did you want to do it again, or?”

“No,” Clyde winced, hands coming up to cover his cheeks. “I mean it was nice, but it’s not- Butters, I’m not really into that-”

“Right, right, I get it.” Oh god he was going to tear up. Like a child. His hands were trembling. He shared a piece of himself he didn’t normally and it was _too soon_ and he was so _stupid_ -

Clyde gasped almost comically, reaching to grab both of Butters’ hands. 

“Leo, hold on,” Clyde said, mismatched cotton gloves warming the boy’s cold fingers. “Look, who you are is fine with me. And it’s- look. You’re so genuinely sweet and you believe in what you’re doing and you do such nice things, like reading to the kids at work-”

He squeezed his hands, gently, not ever looking away. Butters held his hands and let him, feeling his thumbs rub over his fingers. Clyde’s hat was slipping over his eyebrows and he looked absolutely, a hundred percent invested in what he was saying. 

“I just don’t really want to be a minion or anything,” Clyde confessed, wincing as if he might offend. “The meeting was fine. It’s just…that’s not really me, or what I want, or anything.”

“That’s fine!” His voice was higher than usual, feeling began flooding his tense body in relief. “That’s- I thought maybe you were mad about who I was-”

“No!” Clyde burst, pushing his hat back to expose wild, ruffled brown bangs. “Oh my god, no way! I mean it’s-”

The boy laughed, taking Butters’ hands and pressing them against his cheeks to warm them. “I mean it’s…I kinda, really sort of totally fell for you like…three times. Three different times. What are the odds of that?” 

“I don’t know,” Butters pressed his cold fingers against his face with a soft, crooked smile. Clyde smiled back at him, broadly, hair sticking up in all different directions and eyes sweetly fond. 

He was adorable. And maybe he was going too fast but this felt a lot more…solid than any other relationship he’d had in recent years. He shook things a little but Clyde was still here. Still okay. They were both okay. 

This might end up well for them.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Clyde asked then, seriously, and that sealed the deal for Butters. 

The blond made a weird noise, somewhere between a sigh and a squeak, launching himself forward and pulling Clyde closer to smash their lips together in a shaky, desperate kind of way. 

It fucking hurt and they were both giggly, but they ended up with their arms around each other’s shoulders and kissing softly at the information table of the graduation ceremony. Butters wasn’t really giving out any information, but golly he was sure getting some. 

Soulmates, maybe. He didn’t know if they were, but Clyde was smiling against his lips and fuzzy, gloved fingers brushed at the nape of his neck, under the hood of his coat, and he could feel him hum against his lips. 

Soulmates, maybe. They could start smaller, though. 

“Boyfriends, at least?” Butters asked, beaming at the shorter, sweet boy who was smiling goofily back. 

“Absolutely,” Clyde couldn’t seem to stop smiling any more than he could, though he seemed to be trying to be smooth with his words. “If I get to take you out after the graduation.” 

“Uh huh,” The boy pressed his forehead against Clyde’s. “Sounds perfect.” 

The rest of the world was just background noise. Butters sighed, reaching to-

Intertwine their fingers, a broad palm pressed against a slimmer hand with long, bony fingers. Tweek felt self-conscious about almost all aspects of his body, but something felt nice about the way their hands fit together. Right. 

Craig had a scarf wrapped around his shoulders, gloves on his fingers, a large and baggy coat open in the early spring breeze. He looked bored and a bit grumpy, as always, but the guy was incredibly expressive if you just paid some damn attention. 

The side eye he was giving everyone hinted he was still slightly uncomfortable. As if people were going to jump out from under the bandstands and point long, gnarled fingers at them, two men holding hands at an extremely liberal, honestly rather gay art college. 

Tweek squeezed his hand, lightly, barely more than a press of fingers but it was enough to redirect Craig’s attention. 

Grey-green eyes flit over, focusing on the smaller man. Craig’s lips were covered by the scarf like he was trying to hide, a hat pulled over his ears, but he looked far more relaxed than usual. This was good. 

It wasn’t like Craig didn’t like affection. He loved it. Craved it. Needed it, to be honest, it was just hard for him to put that on display. 

Tweek understood, of course. It was just hard to see him get nervous over it. So he just let him take things as slow or quick as needed. And honestly? It was sort of surprising how quickly Craig became okay with it all. 

Sometimes he was fairly certain the person Craig was most obstructed by was himself. 

“Hey, Professor!” The joking tone was definitely one of his own students, and Tweek whirled with hellfire in his eyes. The boy merely waved from where he stood with his friends, grinning from under a large hoodie with a logo on it he didn’t recognize. “Congratulations!” 

“If I’m not being paid we don’t know each other!” Tweek directed his ire towards the student and was yanked back, looking up incredulously as he was pulled against Craig’s chest. 

The boy was looking down at him with a faint smile, confusing the art teacher greatly with the apparent change in attitude. 

“They’re being inappropriate,” Tweek bristled up at him, and Craig’s arm crossed his chest as he hugged the blond towards him. 

“They already know we’re dating,” The taller man pointed out, and Tweek was about ready to give up trying to figure out what went on in his head. 

They never really referred to each other as their boyfriend. Tweek avoided using the word and Craig had never said it aloud, but this was definitely dating and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t appreciative of the fact Craig verbally confirmed this. 

It was a lot more slow of an attraction than they’d had almost a year ago. More comfortable, too. Tweek exhaled, crossing his arms as he looked up at the brunet. 

“You’re fine with being the weird art teacher’s boyfriend?” He asked wryly, wrinkling his nose. 

“Yeah.” Craig brushed a hand through his hair and let him go, stuffing both of his hands in his pockets. “There’s worse things to be.” 

“Ha.” Tweek smiled, walking with Craig towards the bleachers. 

The two became quiet, Craig ushering the blond ahead of them as they walked up to their seats. Tweek licked his lips, slowing the further he walked up the steps. 

“Are you fine being called boyfriends?” He asked without turning around. “It’ll end up becoming our damn title by the time summer’s over, you realize.”

“Oh no,” Craig’s monotone was ever more flat than normal. “How will I live without being known only as the librarian?” 

“Oh my god, Craig,” Tweek cracked a reluctant smile, sending a glance over his shoulder to catch sweet greyish eyes. “Who called you ‘the librarian’?” 

“Not just the librarian,” The boy deadpanned. “The _bad boy_ librarian.” 

That made him snort, choking on his own laughter. Craig could look as intimidating as he liked. He was about as ‘bad’ as a fucking marshmallow. 

It was part of what attracted him to Craig to begin with. He was a softhearted, gentle boy under that scary looking exterior. One who cared for small, fluffy, helpless creatures with love and stayed up late to watch horrible, goofy anime in a marathon. As a date. 

He loved it. 

“You’re a weeby nerd,” Tweek told him, standing at the top of the steps and looking up at the clouding sky. “And you’ll always just be a weeby nerd.” 

Arms wrapped around him, and Craig kissed him just under his ear, under his jaw. Twice, slowly, a full press of his body against Tweek’s back. 

The boy inhaled sharply, startled, as he was promptly snuggled. He twitched, feeling Craig kiss his throat, breathing shakily as the boy moved back, letting Tweek face him. 

Craig looked apprehensive, but Tweek reached up and pulled him down, kissing him soundly on the lips and pulling away with a soft smack. 

And the sky didn’t fall. They just stood, far above the rest of the crowd, pink-cheeked and totally engrossed in one another. Tweek inhaled, mismatched eyes focused on the tall, handsome, nerdy boy he was so crazy about.

“I’m not just a librarian, you’re not just a teacher,” Craig murmured, as if telling a secret. “You’re not a drug addict and I’m not emotionless-”

“Craig I don’tfuckingcare what they’re calling me,” Tweek interrupted whatever heartfelt thing he was about to say, stumbling over his words in his shaky, desperate frenzy to kiss him again. Half the words were said against Craig’s lips, joy flooding through his veins like adrenaline. 

God yes. Tweek’s fingers twisted into his scarf, Craig was laughing against his lips, all that tenseness and hurt and confusion was falling away, piece by piece, and they were kissing in public, in love, standing in freezing May weather up in the benches. 

“You guys better sit down!” Kenny’s voice carried through the air, making the couple whirl to see the blond grinning at them both like the Cheshire cat. “You’re going to miss the ceremony.” 

Oh shit. The music was playing. Tweek licked his lips, feeling like he’d been woken up from a dream, giving the three boys on the bench a deathly glare. 

Kenny’s boyfriend rolled his eyes. The shorter black haired boy was talking to a girl in gothic makeup at the end of the bench. Tweek narrowed his eyes at him. Stan was his name and Craig didn’t like him, the boyfriend’s name was Kyle and he was apparently also an asshole, and that’s all Tweek knew. That and they all were there for the same reasons. 

It was an embarrassing walk down, but the two boys sat by the other three regardless. Kyle was talking to Stan, one hand resting on Kenny’s thigh, and Kenny was waving down towards the ground where Butters and Clyde were moving to sit on the bandstands and watch the graduates begin to file into the field. 

“Hey,” Kenny directed towards Craig, with a bright, teasing grin. “Look a little more thrilled to be here. If we end up having the same family reunions one day-”

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle muttered under his breath. 

“You’re Jewish, Kyle,” Kenny interrupted himself to remind him before continuing. “We’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

“Ugh.” 

Tweek smiled as he scanned the crowd. It took Craig…a long time to realize who his sister was dating. Or that his sister was dating. He hadn’t even known Karen’s _name_ , much less that she was Ruby’s girlfriend, and it had been a very awkward experience for everyone once it was found out that the idiot had no idea. 

The dumbass. Tweek loved him with all his heart. 

Kenny suddenly whistled, sharp and loud, making all the other boys jump in their seats, but was quickly followed by cheers and hollers all around. 

The two girls were dressed in black robes like the rest of their class, holding hands, and waved frantically up into the stands once they saw their brothers and friends making a ruckus. Ruby flipped them off with a grin when she saw Craig lift his expensive, studio camera and Tweek heard him laugh under his breath. 

The graduating class took their seats, the girls beaming ear to ear. For once, Craig and Kenny looked almost alike, bright grins on their faces as they watched the girls. Kyle still had his hand on Kenny, the blond leaning against the redhead as he chattered about his little sister’s cool new job. 

Tweek glanced at Butters and Clyde, who were applauding as well, whispering to one another, leaning closer than necessary and smiling brightly. 

Tweek took a breath and did a self check. For once, everything felt okay. Everyone was fine. Everything had worked out. And what hadn’t yet? He actually kind of felt like it still might. 

Craig took his hand, the speeches began, and the chilly May sun broke through the clouds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Townycod13 for the prompt, the ideas, the inspiration, and the support. Without her this piece would never have been written, much less finished!


End file.
